


First Strike

by Wanderer (Straggler)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Other, Paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straggler/pseuds/Wanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some memories are more difficult to suppress than others, but there are some memories, despite the hardships it came with, Charles keeps close with him at all times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I like to write subtle (like, so incredibly subtle that it's not even THERE) pairings, because it's just my style. This could be interpreted as Erik/Charles as just friends or possibly more, but it's really up to you whether you want to read between the lines or not. As for the genre of the story? I have no bloody clue, which is stupid of me, right?

 

This was a fisherman’s paradise, as most would say. The sky was clear save for a few clouds in the high distance. The wind was calm with barely a breeze to disturb the quiet waters of the lake. Half a mile into the open waters, a boat floated gently and two men sat back to back to each other.

 

The older man breathed deeply through his nose and exhaled with an air of satisfaction. Then, he looked over his shoulder to the other occupant of the boat.

 

‘Son, what do you know about the basics of fishing?’

 

‘You need to be in the right place at the right time,’ the young man said, parroting his father’s words that have been spoken repeatedly over the years since he was first able to understand the meaning of it, ‘and with the right equipment.’

 

The boat swayed along with the man as he waved the words aside. ‘Yes, yes, but those are secondary. Time and location can easily change and those can be easily adapted to. But there is one rule, just one simple rule, that is the most important of them all.’

 

Curious, because this was different to their usual conversations, he half turned and gave the older man his full attention, ‘What’s that, father?’

 

He smiled as he turned back to his fishing rod and fixed a lightly-colored bait onto the hook through the eyes. It shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight and he looked at it fondly. ‘You need to have the right _bait_.’

 

With that, he threw it out into the lake and waited for the fish to bite.

 

\--

 

The explosive sound of a gunshot echoed in his ears and when he came to, he realized that it had only been a dream; a memory of burning sands, burning trees and a burning pain in his back.

 

Charles closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as he cleared his mind of the mirage and took stock of his location and his emotions.

 

He was in his bedroom located on the first floor of the Xavier mansion in Westchester, New York, and he was in pain but he was certain that his pain was a part of his memory; he hadn’t felt anything from his lower waist down in months.

 

With minimal effort, Charles sat up on his bed and worked his way into the wheelchair that was now a permanent fixture in his room and in his life.

 

It was early; the world still dark according to the lack of light coming from the slit on the curtains, but trying to get himself back to sleep would be a wasted effort; the memory and the phantom pain made sure he was kept wide awake.

 

Charles yawned loudly as he wheeled his way into the bathroom towards the lowered sink and set about his daily morning routine. It had been difficult in the beginning, easily taking up three times as long as it usually took him (the sink was too high and trying to look in the mirror at an awkward angle did not help his neck) and it frustrated him to the point where he had thrown a canister of shaving cream to the mirror. It had shattered tremendously, alerted the whole house and brought about a drama that made Charles’ head spin with the voices that was shouting in the bathroom and in everybody’s head, but a quick shout into the minds of his charges easily silenced them enough for him to explain why he did what he did and if they would be so kind as to help him clean up his mess, please, thank you. He would’ve done it himself if he had been able to.

 

Breakfast was a quick affair, a cup of tea to go with two slices of marmalade-covered toast, before he retreated to his study to go through his plans for the day, tweak the schedule for the week, consider his next moves for the month and ponder on the rest of his life. He never got very far into his plans before somebody (usually Hank) knocked on his door and came in with some questions.

 

This time, however, it was Alex.

 

‘Charles, I think we might have a problem.’

 

Charles mentally added another notch into his list of growing concerns. Any person from the outside looking in would faint at the sheer absurdity of it. He would’ve, had he not already grown accustomed to it.

 

\--

 

Safe away in a location that proved very hard to find unless one knew where to look and was revealed to it beforehand, Erik sat behind a desk laden with mounds of files, papers, photos and the occasional newspaper clipping. Across from him sat Raven, otherwise known as Mystique, with one leg elegantly crossed over the other and with a file, similar to what Erik held, in her own hands. If what they read were correct, they had more to fear from the humans than they previously thought.

 

‘What will you have us do?’ Raven asked as she looked up from where she had been reading.

 

Erik closed the file, as if to close the problem away from the world, and turned his gaze to the exotic blue woman who sat before him. ‘For now, we wait, we listen, we plan; we do not do anything further unless provoked or unless our hand is forced.’

 

She returned her golden gaze to the papers on her lap and wished things hadn’t come to this; a world divided because of differences too large to fully grasp. She wondered what Charles would do, if he knew what was being planned against them.

 

‘I understand.’

 

Every part of her being shook at the daunting reality of it, the fear, the anxiety, and despite what she said, she honestly didn’t fully understand the situation; why did it have to come to this? For the umpteenth time, she wished Charles was here.

 

‘Mystique,’

 

‘Yes,’ she was quick to drop the ‘Erik’ from the end. It was hard to think of him as Magneto, even harder to think of him as a fearsome leader and not a friend or mentor. Everything about the man was closed off, and it wasn’t entirely the helmet’s doing, either.

 

‘I need you to gather some information for me,’ he said as he pulled a file from a large stack and handed it to her, ‘We’ll need to know a more in-depth report on their procedures and plans before we can set anything into motion.’

 

‘How long do I have to fulfill this request?’ She asked as she accepted the file and skimmed the pages. There was a facility located between the hills of Colorado, top-secret; only high-ranking officers have authority to enter and leave, any others that enter are never seen or heard from again.

 

‘One week, no more than that. Take as much as you can. Get in and out without being seen or noticed.’

 

She nodded. Infiltration and information gathering was her specialty, something she took pride in herself with. It took months of trial and error, and while she still has a lot to learn in that field, she was confident in her abilities.

 

‘Azazel will teleport you there, and you will keep in contact with Emma no less than once an hour, or six if you need rest. The facility is guarded against Telepaths, so you may need to find somebody to shift into that won’t make it obvious that they go out constantly.’

 

She frowned. _A smoker, then_.

 

She disliked inhaling substances that damage her body and health; what was the point? But for the greater good, she’d concede to doing it temporarily.

 

‘When do I leave?’ she asked as she stood from her seat with file in hand.

 

‘First rise tomorrow.’

 

She nodded once more as she turned to the door and made to depart, the file felt heavy in her hands, but she was quick to dismiss it as a trick of her mind. True, the task before her was weighty but if she did everything correctly, then she would have no trouble.

 

‘Raven,’

 

‘Yes?’ She turned eagerly at her given name and felt hope rise in her chest.

 

A shadow of an emotion passed Erik’s features, most of which were blocked from the helmet he wore constantly, even in rest. There was hardened concern; a worry for her because he had known her at the same time he had known Charles. While Charles is no longer with him as a constant companion, he would strive to make sure at least she stayed with him.

 

‘Be careful.’

 

Hope swelled within her as the corners of her lips turned into a smile. It was moments like this; moments she shared with him, that made her forget her regrets of having left Charles behind on that fateful day. Now, more than ever, she felt she made the right decision; was doing the right thing, for the greater good; for them.

 

‘Thank you, Erik.’

 

With a finality, she left the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've returned to this 'writing scene' so I feel like I'm a bit 'out of sorts'. While I feel like I've improved on my writing a little bit, I know I've still got a long, long, long (so long), way to go, but I hope you'll stick with this story through to the very end.
> 
> Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's had a slow start (and will probably go on like that for maybe another chapter or so) but it'll pick up. I mean, you know as they say, Rome wasn't built in a day.

Deep breath in, hold, exhale. Repeat.

 

When he was finally able to gather some semblance of order, inside and outside, Charles turned his eyes away from the file and fixed his gaze to one of the two other occupants of the room. ‘You’re certain of this?’

 

Hank shuffled his feet; his confidence wavered, bringing him back to before he took the injection that changed his life forever.

 

‘I can’t be a hundred-percent sure, because the channels I’ve looked into could be feeding me false trails, but I’d rather be safe than sorry,’ he finished with a shrug.

 

‘It looks pretty bad, right?’ Alex said as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the only outward sign to show his discomfort at the situation.

 

Charles looked from one boy (no, they are men, now) to another before he turned his sights back to the innocent papers that were anything but. If what Hank gathered was correct, then he feared things could easily spiral out of control if certain parties knew of the implications. He hoped that things wouldn’t come to that.

 

‘What should we do?’ Alex asked, his expression now showing a hint of anxiety.

 _What, indeed._ Charles couldn’t find it within himself to understand why things seemed to be taking a turn for the worst. Or maybe he did but he wanted to ignore it for just a little bit longer. While it was true that Hank, Alex and Sean have grown and learned many unforgettable life lessons during the last few months, all of them were still too young for this kind of burden. It worried him.

 

He skimmed the page again, tried to make sense of a world he no longer knew and wished he had the proper solution for it. As it were, he had nothing. He needed more time to think; to plan.

 

He needed to provide a distraction.

 

Deep breath in, hold, exhale. Repeat.

 

‘Hank will give you the co-ordinates to another -’

 

Alex’s eye widened, ‘What?! But that has absolutely nothing to do with this!’ He said as he made a jab at the current problem at hand.

 

Charles closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and continued, despite the fury that Alex was now projecting in waves. ‘Hank will give you the co-ordinates to another mutant that needs to be recruited and you will go.’ Alex’s fury grew, but Charles was adamant. ‘Sean should be returning within the next day or two with our new guest.’

 

The new guest would be only the first one they’ve managed to recruit in the weeks since they’ve started. It wasn’t very impressive compared to how it used to be when he and Erik had gone out to do it; they were quick and efficient and they complemented each other so well that the task set before them was done without a wasted breath.

 

Alex looked like he wanted to explode, always so hot-headed and quick to jump to conclusions. At times, it was endearing, but at this current moment, Charles wished Alex thought more with his head and not with his heart. But he supposed that was where he himself, came in.

 

‘Professor,’ Hank was the only person to call Charles by that title, ‘is that such a good idea? I mean, if that report is true, then we could be in serious trouble; we don’t have _time_ to go off-tangent.’

 

Charles nodded, because denying or side-stepping it would only make matters worse and not bring any comfort to anybody. And when everybody was projecting negative waves, he could feel it building up within him like a tower of cards ready to push him over the edge. He sighed and tried to fight off the migraine that was slowly, virally, crowding his thoughts. ‘There’s nothing else we can do, at the moment.’

 

‘So we’re just going to do nothing, then?’ Alex snapped.

 

Charles frowned, and there was a split moment where Alex’s expression changed from one of anger to one of anxiety, but it was quickly gone and replaced again with his head-strong personality.

 

Deep breath in, hold, exhale. Repeat.

 

‘Our team, at this current moment, is solely comprised of three men, a trainee on the way, and a cripple. There is nothing else we can do.’

 

Alex took a step back, as if physically hurt, as shame washed over him. His eyes flickered to the chair that Charles was permanently seated in and quickly away again. He wondered how he could’ve possibly forgotten.

 

Sometimes, it was just so easy to forget that Cuba had never happened.

 

Hank shuffled his feet, bit his lower lip out of worried habit only to wince when his fangs drew blood and quickly tried to diffuse the situation by changing the subject. ‘The next guy you should try is just upstate from here.’ He said as he rummaged around his desk for the file that held all the mutants they gleaned off Cerebro the last time they used it within the CIA walls, ‘By my estimate, it should only take you about two or so hours on the bike for you to get from here to there, provided you don’t get lost or side-tracked.’

 

‘I’m not directionally-challenged,’ he mumbled as he accepted the slip of paper that contained a name and co-ordinate as well as a scribbled location.

 

Alex chanced a side-glance at the older man and quickly turned his gaze away when he noticed that he was being watched as well. Another ripple of shame coursed through him and he decided to make his departure; no longer able to stay in the same room as Charles. He felt humiliated at his actions, or lack thereof, and needed the next few hours to properly think of a way to apologize for everything that he’s said and done. He would have no sleep tonight.

 

Sometimes, he wished Cuba never happened. Then they wouldn’t be here, in this fucked-up situation.

 

‘I’ll head out first thing tomorrow. If everything’s good to go, then I should be back by nightfall,’ he said, merely to fill in the silence than anything else and slowed to a stall at the door. As he stood by the lab entrance, a wave of gentle calm overtook his anxiety and he turned to stare at the man he’s come to known as his leader, friend and mentor.

 

He remembered this feeling, like cool sheets wrapping him in a calm embrace. It gave him relief, provided a warmth that healed his soul, helped him to his feet whenever he tripped or fell to his knees, or when he couldn’t find the strength to complete the seemingly momentous task set before him. It reminded him of home, and of a mismatched but kind family.

 

He remembers this feeling; it feels like hope.

 

‘Charles?’

 

‘Yes?’ He said with a soft, fond smile.

 

Deep breath in, hold, exhale. Repeat.

 

Now or never, ‘I’m sorry,’

A laugh, equally soft, escaped the man’s lips, ‘There is nothing to forgive, Alex.’ _This is who you are, and I have come to accept this._

 

Alex smiled, and felt hope rise in his chest, ‘Goodnight.’

 

‘Goodnight, Alex, sleep well.’

 

Alex had no doubt that he will.

 

\--

 

Thousands of miles away, the smell of smoke and sulfur permeated through the air as a man and woman appeared hidden in the trees. A split second later, the man was gone in another puff of smoke and the woman crouched down in the foliage to gaze at her concealed target. She estimated there was about four or five miles of hiking from here to there; something her stamina and endurance should have no trouble with.

 

As she began her walk towards the facility, her mind returned back to the briefing she had with Emma concerning her methods of infiltration. While the session helped her immensely on the hourly, daily and weekly routines of the officers and staff within the walls, she felt her response to the blonde woman growing more and more clipped and detached as they discussed.

 

Raven had never been comfortable regarding the other woman by her name, because her abilities as a Telepath reminded her of Charles and to Raven, Charles would always be the only Telepath she would always acknowledge. If Emma knew, then she gave no indication she cared. She was as hard as he second mutation made her to be.

 

‘There is a man named Ashton who makes frequent trips outside of the facility for fresh air and a quick smoke,’ Emma said as she slipped a picture towards Raven for her to shift into. Her imitation was flawless, as usual. ‘He’s a top officer, and he has limited access to certain areas of the site, but what we require won’t need a deep infiltration.’ Raven nodded as she picked up a stapled stack of papers and flipped through the schedule. ‘I’ve monitored him for the past week and his schedule is as listed; there are very little variants, so it should be simple enough for you.’

 

 A spike of anger jabbed at her chest and she turned her changed eyes towards the smirking woman. She decided not to rise to the bait, because if there’s anything that Charles has taught her, it’s to be silent, because nothing frustrates an intimidator more than a lack of response. It doesn’t work on Telepaths though, because they can still feel the anger coursing through their intended target.

 

Emma smiled innocently as she pointed at the list with a manicured finger, ‘memorize that, as well as this,’ she handed her another folder than contained papers with pictures attached, ‘these people are your superiors and the staff that work under your direct order. Remember them well.’

 

The both of them went through the other schematics on how they were going to abduct the man and take his identity and access cards. As soon as she entered the building, however, she would be on her own.

 

The facility stood ahead of her now, just a mile more. She had shifted her image to one of a simple hiker, because her blue skin and red hair would’ve contrasted too deeply with the hues of green and yellow that surrounded her that also helped to hide the building from too many prying eyes. As she drew nearer, Emma’s voice echoed her name.

 

‘Mystique,’

 

 _‘Yes.’_ She replied in her mind.

 

‘You have eight minutes, give or take, before Ashton escapes the confines for his break. I suggest you hurry.’

 

Raven did not give a reply as she began a quick jog towards the unguarded way where the man she was to impersonate for the next week took his regular breaks. She shifted, her shoulder becoming broader, her chest and arms larger, her legs longer and her feet wider. Her hair became cropped, and changed to a dirty shade of blond while her eyes altered from gold to grey-green as she developed a strong jaw. Just as her transformation came to a finish, the steel door creaked open and out came her target with a cigarette hanging from his lips and a lighter in his hand on its way up.

 

Three things happened in quick succession; the man’s eyes widened first in disbelief then in horror as his mirror image approached him, Raven’s hand shot out to grab the man’s throat just as he opened his mouth to shout a warning, and with a grace that belied her current features she was quick to disarm and disengage. Before the unconscious man hit the ground, Azazel appeared in a puff of red smoke and disappeared again leaving only her behind to clip on the stolen effects and pick up the fallen cigarette and lighter to her lips. She exhaled just before the door came to a close.

 

The door opened again before she took her second breath of smoke.

 

‘Colonel, you have a meeting with the chief in five minutes,’ a young man, possibly fresh out of his college years, appeared from behind the door and regarded her.

 

‘I’ll be done in two.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guh, I really hate this 'RICH TEXT/HTML' crap...I've lost count of how many times I've edited these two chapters because the format doesn't MATCH!


	3. Chapter 3

The air inside the vehicle was stifling, though Sean was certain he was the only one to feel the effects, if his gaze towards the comfortably dozing teenager on the passenger seat was anything to go by.

 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he thought back on last Friday when he was first given the assignment to take the car and drive out from the mansion to ‘pick-up’ a new recruit. He would easily admit that he had been excited at first, because he had finally gotten his license and he could _drive_ (and what’s more, Charles had allowed him to take the recently purchased Thunderbird Convertible, too), but as the days went on with trying and failing to find the person named Max Taylor in the not-so-small town, he grew anxious and eventually, nauseous. It was only by an off-chance that he even found the guy when he was sleeping in the car by the park and heard something that wasn’t at all part of the surrounding nature that he even deemed it good enough to sit up from his make-shift bed in the back seat to blearily peer out the window. It only took one look but one look was all he needed for him to know, right there and then, he found his man.

 

Of course, it took him five days, almost a week, but he was now on his way home with the new recruit on the passenger seat and the radio (and gas) on low.

 

Mission complete.

 

Though, he supposed he should’ve seen it coming that there would be something bigger and worse waiting for him as soon as he stepped through the doors of a place he now considered as home.

 

\--

 

Three days. Three days and she had found nothing substantial. While a part of Raven was starting to grow anxious at the lack of anything good to report on, she was quick to calm her features from giving herself and her position away. She behaved just as Emma showed her how Ashton behaved. Spoke as he did and performed his duties in a similar and timely manner. Nobody suspected a thing.

 

In the three days since she had first stepped into the Telepath-proof walls, she had gone through all of the places she was allowed access to (slowly, and with purpose), searched all the files and folders she could rifle through and listened to various pieces of conversation whenever she was in the general vicinity. There was nothing.

 

It was obvious they picked a man that barely had any influence or say within the facility, but he was the only man Raven could use without drawing too many suspicious glances. While she often contemplated taking up the disguise of another fellow worker, without the help of Emma and Azazel, she would be exposing herself more thoroughly than she would be if she walked around in her natural blue skin.

 

No, she would have to be patient. Wait, listen, and plan; not do anything unless provoked or unless her hand is forced.

 

‘Colonel Ashton,’

 

She turned and they saluted one another, ‘Marshal Coad,’

 

Marshal Coad was Ashton’s superior and friend from the military. While they started off as friends back when they trained in the army, that part of their relationship now came second (sometimes, not even at all) to their official titles.

 

‘Come, I’ve been asked to bring you with me to our meeting,’ the man said as he gestured to a hallway she didn’t frequent very often due to lack of access. The man walked down along the way with ample space for her to sidle along with him.

 

Her heart-rate increased for two reasons; one, this could finally be the break she was waiting for and needed so desperately for her to complete her mission, and the second, she would have to improvise and walk on blind without the guidance and advice from Erik via Emma.

 

‘Your meeting with the head executive?’ She asked as she easily matched his strides and walked alongside him.

 

‘And the head researcher,’ he said as he keyed in a code to a number pad. Raven memorized this as the light on the door turned from red to green and slid open in a flourish.

 

‘Developments on the experiments?’ She tried not to shudder at the term and schooled her features to one of cool disdain.

 

‘Yes, that and more.’

 

‘I see.’

 

They continued their walk through a set of double doors and down the now winding pathway that led to an isolated elevator that had only three buttons; MO, G and ER.

 

They were on the Ground floor, she was certain of that. As for the other floors, she could only guess, and even then, it would be feeble at best. She considered chancing a question towards the man, but decided to hold her tongue; officers of their caliber do not ask questions, only obey the orders given.

 

As they entered the lift, Marshal Coad pushed the MO button and turned his attention to Raven, ‘It seems things beyond our power is happening, and happening fast.’

 

She breathed in deeply, ‘Not unusual, considering the current world we live in.’

 

‘Yes, unfortunate as that may be,’ he said as his gaze turned downwards and his posture grew slack for the briefest of moments. Before the door opened again with a chime to announce their presence, Marshal Coad was back to normal; expression calm and posture alert.

 

‘You are late,’ a new voice Raven has never heard before addressed them.

 

The office, she could tell it was an office simply because of the many filing cabinets that stood by the desk like towering silver sentinels, as well as the various files and folders out on the large meeting table just off to the side. The room was colored a deep brown and red, warm and comfortable yet ergonomically spaced; efficient.

 

‘No, your watch is simply too fast,’ a man said with humor in his voice. The man was familiar to her because, as head executive, he often drew his top officers into one room to de-brief them and to remind them of their mission; we (humans, not mutants) are the way to the future; the New World Order.

 

The man in the white lab-coat with one hand deep in his pocket snorted. ‘Not at all; it is the right time, according to the international time-’

 

‘Yes, yes, let’s move on, shall we?’ The head executive, whose name was Fletcher, turned his attention back to the two men who stood in front of the elevators doors which have come to a close, ‘Come, come, have a seat, we have much to discuss.’

 

‘Introductions first,’ the man with the unfamiliar voice said.

 

Raven followed lead and sat on the only other available seat next to Coad across Fletcher and the unnamed man. She felt a nervousness shake her core, but one deep breath was all she needed to reign in her senses and think calmly. _I am here for information._

‘Introductions, yes, of course,’ Fletcher gestured to Raven and then to the other, ‘Welcome to the Main Office and to our inner circle, Colonel Ashton-’

 _Quite a small circle, it seems._

 

‘-this is our head researcher, Stryker Senior.’

 _Striker Senior?_ She thought to herself in puzzlement as she offered a hand to the man to shake and nodded her head in greeting, ‘Sir.’

 

‘That’s Stryker with a ‘Y’. I have a son here with me, so we both go by Stryker Senior and Stryker Junior; quite the team we make, if you ask me,’ the man chuckled easily as he gripped Raven’s hand firmly.

 

‘I see,’ she said as she loosened her grip and waited for the man to do the same.

 

Rather, his grip tightened around her hand to the point of pain, ‘And let me just say, it is so _nice_ to finally meet you.’ The man’s grin turned malicious as his other hand drew out a white-tinted gun from the depths of his pockets and pulled the trigger.

 

With a barely suppressed gasp, she jumped out of her seat, toppling the chair, but it was too late; a small dart was now protruding out of her skin that had been previously shaking the man’s hand, her skin that was now progressively turning blue. Only one thought screamed in her mind as darkness creeped onto the edges of her consciousness; _how did they know?_

 

\--

 

In another lab tucked in the basement of an old but well looked after stately home, another man in a lab-coat sat hunched over a low table and growled in frustration as he tried to calculate the necessary items he’d need for a personal project of his.

 

It _shouldn’t_ be difficult for him, but it turned out to be much more than what he had first expected. He had assumed, considering the world as it was today, things would be easier to come by, especially when it came to lightweight and durable plastic-type materials. As it were, he was only half-way there. The Professor’s current model was made of stainless steel and aluminum and while it was good, Hank would personally feel better if the older man sat in something that _he_ couldn’t control.

 

Another growl escaped him as he thought of the other man he had grown to both care (with a certain reluctance) for and hate vehemently. How could Erik betray them like that? How could Erik, after everything that he and Charles had gone through together, betray him like that? It made him wish that he had strangled the man when he had the chance.

 

He was startled when something cold washed over his senses, stopping his less-than-pleasant thoughts more effectively than a bucket of freezing water over his head ever could. He turned to the entry way and saw the Professor sitting in his chair with an expression that bordered on pain and frustration. It was at that moment that Hank knew that he was about to sign up for something that he definitely, most probably, won’t like.

 

\--

 

‘Erik,’

 

‘What is it?’

 

Emma was a difficult woman to tolerate, only because whenever he saw her, he would think of Shaw. There would always be a moment where he had wanted to lash out at her and attack her; strangle her to the point she couldn’t recover from, but he stopped himself. Shaw was dead; he made sure of that. But that didn’t mean that Emma still didn’t occasionally remind him of a dead man.

 

‘Mystique has failed to report in the last hour and a half.’

 

Erik tore his eyes away from the file he had been reading as dread filled his stomach and his heart stuttered in his chest. His mind reeled at the words the woman just spoke and he wondered if Emma made a mistake. ‘What did her last report contain?’ Did it have any clues as to her current predicament?

 

‘Nothing substantial.’

 

His heart continued its beat in an erratic fashion. ‘Nothing,’

 

‘Nothing.’ Full stop.

 

Erik cursed in his mind as he stood from his seat and tried to reign in his emotions. The air felt heavier around him and he found it hard to breathe. His power pulsed and echoed through the room as pens and letter openers hovered in the air just above the desk. Emma watched him with a cool expression on her face, but the tenseness in the way her shoulder were set gave away her anxiety of being in the same room as a man that might just explode and turn her into a casualty of a passionate attack.

 

He had utmost confidence that Raven was more than capable of the task that he had given her, and while he had often wanted to ask her to come back, regardless of whether she had anything or not, he had decided that this was a learning curve that she would eventually have to go through. He had no doubt that while it was not a safe environment for her, he was certain that she would have more to gain from the experience than lose. Obviously, he miscalculated.

 

Erik drew in a quiet, long breath as he regarded the woman in front of him with lowered eyes, ‘Bring Azazel here; I want answers, now.’

 

She nodded, but made no move to summon the red demon. ‘Before that, there’s something else you need to address.’

 

‘What?’ He snapped and willed his mind to calm down, because everything that had a hint of metal in it was rattling with an urgency that spoke more than he himself would.

 

Emma’s head tilted marginally to the side, barely noticeable, as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they seemed to have taken on a different hue of blue; deeper, darker. And when she spoke, it was most certainly not her words, nor her emotions, that seemed to spill from her lips and radiate from her face.

 

‘Where, is, my, sister.’

 

For the second time in less than two minutes, Erik’s heart stuttered again, only this time, it felt like everything stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first chapters (and usually the whole story) always suck. I beg for your forgiveness...


	4. Chapter 4

Riding on a motorbike was an exhilarating experience. Something about being exposed with the elements brought about a certain sense of freedom, but after an hour on the vehicle, it brought about a certain ache and pain in the lower back area from having been hunched over in the same position for an extended period of time that it took away some amount of enjoyment from it. As Alex stretched and tried to work out the kinks from his body, he wondered how he was supposed to go and find the new recruit named Raymond Wirth. And he wondered if he could survive another ride back to the mansion with another person strapped to his back.

 

He decided he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

 

He looked around the seemingly small town from where he stood by the gas station, a pump attached to his ride. Just across the road was a small diner, only half-filled with patrons with two waiters working about on the floor and a woman standing behind the counter. Right along the road was a bookstore, an antique shop and a butcher. Down at the very far end, Alex noticed a large, moss-covered stone cross atop a building. He had never been a large believer in God; his life experiences robbed him of that faith, but he would readily admit that there had been times where he prayed to Him and asked _why_.

 

Alex turned away and entered the building behind him to pay for the gas, and maybe pick up a snack or two before he went on his search. He didn’t know how he would go about finding the guy; he doubted that he’d be able to find him on the first go, and he doubted that it would be easy, and it wasn’t like he’d know who and what he was looking for, either. He wished Charles gave him more of a lead than a name and a place. A picture would’ve been nice.

 

The door sang at his entrance as he walked through towards the counter. As he pulled out his wallet to pay for the gasoline, he picked up a chocolate bar, and a pack of strawberry-flavored gum along the way.

 

‘Three gallons, thanks. And these.’ Alex said as he put down the sweets and waited for the teenager behind the counter to ring up the items. As the teenager struggled with the temperamental register, Alex kept watch of the way the other’s lips pouted, the way his eyebrows furrowed in casual frustration, and the way his hair seemed to stick out in weird angles under his red-colored cap. When the register finally let out a chime of defeat, a smile spread out over the dark-haired teen’s face and Alex couldn’t help but return it.

 

‘Sorry,’ the teen said as he took the offered cash and pulled out some change, ‘this gets a bit…well, you know, but the boss won’t bother with a new one,’ he shrugged, ‘What can you do?’

 

Alex grinned as he accepted the change, ‘Not much to do about it.’

 

He sighed. ‘Oh well.’ He closed the register with a shove and casually leaned over the counter. ‘So, you’re new around here; visiting or passing by?’

 

‘Visiting,’ he said as he pocketed the change and tucked his wallet back into his jacket. ‘I’m looking for somebody.’

 

His eyebrows quirked upwards in curious surprise. ‘Yeah? Who for? This town is pretty small; everybody knows everybody. What’s the name?’

 

Alex wondered if it would be bad form for him to give away who he was looking for; word would spread quicker than wildfire in a town this tiny. But he figured that since this was a pretty small town, regardless of how he was going to go about looking for the guy, eventually, everybody was going to find out. Whether he stayed behind or left with Alex, people would still know and people would talk.

 

He mentally shrugged; there really wasn’t much of a guideline for him to follow, so he was going to do it his way. ‘Ah, well, the guy’s name is-’

 

‘Raymond!’ Alex jumped and turned to the door that was held ajar. ‘You better not be slacking! I ain’t paying you to slack off!’ A man hollered from his office.

 

The teen rolled his eyes and shouted back, ‘I’m not slacking!! I’m talking to a customer!’ Alex stared at him in amazement.

 

‘Well, I ain’t paying ya to dilly-dally, either!’

 

‘You don’t even pay me anyway, dad, this is a family business!’

 

‘Damn right, it is!’

 

The teen gave another roll of his eyes and let out a frustrated huff as he took off his cap and scratched at his unruly hair, ‘What a crazy hoot,’ he muttered to himself as he pulled his cap back on and scratched his pink-tinged cheeks, obviously embarrassed by the fatherly display. ‘Please forget that, you’ll be doing me a huge favor.’

 

‘Uh…’ Alex’s mind reeled; did he just luck out? ‘You don’t happen to be Raymond Wirth, right?’

 

‘Yeah, that’s me,’ he sighed in defeat; was he so infamous that even a stranger knew about him? ‘I mean, you’re filling up at ‘Wirth’s Gas-station’, and we’re really the only Wirth’s in town, so…’ he said aloofly as he picked at a few random things lying around the counter for some amount of distraction but his red cheeks gave away his obvious embarrassment.

 

Alex wasn’t paying much attention to the teen’s emotional dilemma. Instead, he was focused on his words.

 

 _Wirth’s Gas-station?_ He hadn’t noticed when he pulled up for petrol; a gas-station was a gas-station, though, he figured he should’ve paid more attention to his surroundings. It would make things easier for the future.

 

‘Right, yeah, uh…’ Well, that was one part down, here comes the next, ‘So, I have a proposal for you,’ he winced at his poor choice of words, but the teen merely laughed, his awkward fiddling gone.

 

‘Yeah? Where’s the ring, then?’

 

\--

 

It felt like his heart was trying to beat a way out of his chest as he peered down at the still woman strapped to an operating table in his father’s work room. He couldn’t believe his eyes, and briefly wondered if he was hallucinating, took one too many sips of his father’s scotch that was hidden in the last drawer of his work desk. Discounting the fact that the last time he did that was a long time ago when he was not quite at the legal drinking age yet but almost there.

 

With a shaky hand, he reached out to touch but found it hovering over a patterned arm instead. ‘Father,’ he began with a calm and quiet voice, as though afraid he would awaken the person/creature/thing, ‘what is this?’ _Who is she?_

 

The older man looked up from where he had been peering through a lens at a skin sample he had procured from Colonel Ashton’s impersonator and stared at the occupied table. He had briefly wondered what had happened to the man at one point, but it longer mattered to him now; Ashton was collateral damage; the blue woman was far more valuable to him than a man that had not been ambitious enough and had been stuck with the title of Colonel for the past four years.

 

‘That, my son, is the way to the future.’

 

William tore his eyes away from skin too blue and stared at his father with wide eyes, ‘What do you mean?’

 

‘Imagine,’ he said as he stood from his desk and walked towards his son, ‘a future where wars are fought with armies only half the capacity but twice the output. We could save hundreds if not _thousands_ of people and resources.’ He said as he gazed down at the woman with something akin to hunger in his eyes. ‘If we can harness this power; this wondrous mutation, wars could be won in mere months instead of years and decades.’

 

As he stared into his father’s crazed eyes, William fought down the shiver that thrummed up and down his spine. While he looked up to his father for his ingenuity and his innovative skills, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the man was stepping too far across the invisible line of what was considered morally right and wrong.

 

Ever since he had been a young boy, he had stood by his father’s side and learned everything he could about the world and anything beyond it. The world was wrought with so much strife and famine, pestilence and death. He strove to help provide a solution and cure for everything. He made it his personal mission to make the world a better place. And while he performed things that often conflicted his morals, he believed it would affect the future but for the better. For the sake of a better tomorrow, he would concede to doing duties that most men would turn away from.

 

But this, even this went against what he believed. For the first time in a long time, he found himself stepping back, away from his father’s footsteps.

 

‘Imagine!’ The man continued, his arms moving about in excited gestures. ‘Super Soldiers!’ He gushed enthusiastically. ‘We will be _winners_.’

 

William shook his head. ‘Father, I don’t think this is right.’ He felt sick just thinking about performing the same kind of experiments he used on other men. True, they often died, but they knew the risks when they agreed to the terms of wanting a better tomorrow.  The difference between them and her was that the men volunteered willingly for a better future while she had no choice. ‘This is wrong.’ She’s too beautiful to waste.

 

The man sighed and shook his head with an air of disappointment. ‘Don’t worry, son. One day, you will understand.’

 

That day may come sooner than either of them expected.

 

\--

 

Erik couldn’t believe his ears as he absorbed the words that slipped from Emma’s mouth. He wondered if perhaps he was hallucinating, a product from consuming far too much coffee and having far too little sleep. If it weren’t for the out-of-character expression on Emma’s face, or the change in hue in her eyes, he would’ve assumed that she was merely extremely cross with him (though, what for, he had no clue; she has never cared much for Raven).

 

‘Charles?’

 

It had been so long since he last said that name in that context, so long since he had shared in the other man’s company. He realized that this was neither the right time nor place, but he couldn’t help the feeling of nostalgia washing over him. It reminded him of times long past.

 

‘Erik, where is Raven?’ There was a tone of urgency in her voice, but one that belong solely to Charles.

 

‘Raven, she’s-’ he cut himself off, because he didn’t know her exact location himself. He knew where, but not _where_. ‘Charles, I-we were just-how did you find out?’

 

A small, pained smile spread over her face, an expression that reminded Erik entirely of Charles, and of a place he once thought of as home. ‘I’ve known Raven for years; her presence is a comfort to me.’

 

‘Regardless of the distance?’ He wondered if Raven knew; knew how much Charles cared enough to keep a close watch over her.

 

‘Regardless of that. I’ve noticed her blink in and out these past few days. I won’t ask; it’s not my business.’

 

‘How did you find out?’

 

‘The moment I felt a part of me disappear.’

 

A spike of devastating fear shuddered its way through Erik’s system. He had grown exceptionally close to Raven in the months since the incident on the beach; they reminded each other of the one connection they missed the most, and if he felt this tormented by her disappearance, he couldn’t begin to imagine just how Charles felt.

 

He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t even know where to begin, or how. He doubted it would even help.

 

Then, one thought began to niggle at his mind. ‘How are you here?’

 

‘I spoke to Emma first,’ she said as she gaze down at her feet and raised a fine eyebrow at the choice of footwear, ‘and she agreed to, ah…let me borrow her for a short moment.’

 

A part of Erik wondered, comically, if Charles would be able to walk properly in high heels. ‘We are thousands of miles apart; how are you even able to contact Emma through that kind of distance?’ They were states and different time-zones away.

 

Charles smiled a smile that seemed so oddly out of character on Emma’s face, yet it was a smile that seemed to make her glow more radiantly. If the woman knew, it’d be likely that she would be a more formidable Telepath, but as it were…

 

A small sigh. ‘Cerebro,’

 

Erik frowned. ‘You’re still using that insidious contraption?’

 

‘Hank has improved it immensely; the headpiece is much smaller and has fewer wires now.’

 

He made a non-committal hum and watched as the smile on her face withered down to a grimace, as though remembering their original point of conversation.

 

‘Erik, please,’ she begged, ‘where is Raven?’

 

Guilty, he looked down at the papers on his desk and stalled while two parts of his soul vehemently protested to revealing too much while another battled reason that he needed Charles. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

 

‘Surely you must know where her location is.’

 

‘I do, but…’ he trailed off, feeling troubled, ‘I don’t know if perhaps, maybe, she’s been moved or not.’ It was a likely possibility, yet at the same time, he knew it was a terribly weak argument. While Raven was a part of his team, and he’d do _anything_ to bring her back safely, Charles was her family, and for most people, family came first, though not always.

 

‘If I haven’t felt her since the moment she disappeared, then it’s likely she’s still where she is; stuck.’

 

Erik nodded in agreement; Emma would’ve known or Raven would’ve mentally screamed for help, if she were able to.

 

Eventually, he relented. ‘I’ll show you the files and talk you through where I sent her and asked her to do.’

 

‘You don’t have to give me that much detail, just where is fine enough.’

 

As Erik moved towards his filing cabinet, Charles made to follow. Had this not been such a terribly tense situation, he would’ve laughed at the man (woman) for tripping over those damn shoes and pitching forward. With quick reflexes and a bit of metal manipulation, Erik was able to save Charles from incurring Emma’s wrath for ruining her clothes and make-up, and possibly her face, too.

 

‘Charles,’ he began as he gazed into familiar blue eyes, ‘I think you should sit down.’

 

Another grimace crossed her features and she quietly shook her head and straightened herself out, ‘No, thank you, I’d rather, ah…stand, if you don’t mind.’

 

Erik raised an eyebrow at the odd behavior, but decided not to mind it; Charles has always been quite an enigma to him, which might be an attribute to being a Telepath, though there were many moments they shared where they seemed to click so perfectly together. This, however, did not seem to be one of those moments.

 

‘She’s in Colorado.’

 

Charles raised an eyebrow at that, as though wondering what was located in Colorado that Raven needed to go there. Rather than voice his questions, he merely nodded, ignored the way his (her) hair seemed to have a mind of its own and accepted the file Erik gave.

 

‘We needed to gather some information,’ _and I unwittingly sent your sister to her possible doom,_ ‘she was given a week to gather what she could and then leave regardless of whether the information she gathered was substantial or less than par.’

 

‘I see.’ Charles said as he fingered through the papers and photos and ignored the irritating sensation of having horrendously long and heavily manicured fingernails. They were _ridiculous_. How could Emma possibly get anything done with these?

 

 _Very delicately, and with much skill. I only do them once a week, so I would very much appreciate it if you would be gentler with things that do not belong to you._ Emma quipped. Charles wasn’t sure if he should be amused or not.

 

Erik quickly pulled up a large map and laid it across his table then pointed at an obscure location that had a small black dot surrounded by greens and yellows. ‘This is where I sent her.’

 

Luscious red lips opened to form a question, but quickly closed again.

 

‘What?’

 

She shook her head. ‘I meant to ask what was there,’ she said as she pointed at the same location, ‘but I thought better of it; not my business, as I said. Nor is it the reason why I’m here.’

 

‘No, it’s not.’ But he felt he wouldn’t mind telling Charles the reason why he sent Raven to Colorado, but then he realized the folly of his thoughts and decided it was a good thing he learned to control his impulses. For some reason, Charles always had that ability to unwind him and make him forget his goals, even if for only a short moment.

 

Charles frowned deeply, a look that Emma would surely object to; it gave her wrinkles. Then he bit her lips and immediately recoiled as though slapped right across the face. Erik looked at her in alarm.

 

‘What-’

 

Charles winced and brought a hand to his head, an attempt to half block out the white noise ( _Was I not clear enough?)_ and the impending headache. ‘Apparently, Emma would prefer if I don’t inflict any of my bad habits onto her person.’

 

Erik snorted and rolled his eyes at the typical behavior.’ Yes, she’s quite territorial.’

 

She shook her head once more, to clear her mind before she turned her full attention to the man across her. She had a calm expression on her face, though lines of anxiety and fear were clearly visible in her blue eyes. Charles was troubled.

 

‘Erik, I’ll require your assistance to bring her back to us,’ she paused, the look of worry cutting across her features more sharply, ‘but I fear something more sinister may be at hand.’

 

He drew in a quiet breath and saw his concerns reflected back to him from eyes of blue. His instincts have been screaming at him ever since Charles first appeared through Emma. Questions upon questions kept piling higher and higher and while some have been answered and pushed aside, he still felt uneasy. Now, he knew why.

 

Before their parting on the beach, he and Charles had shared many moments where a simple look was all that was needed for them to communicate what they thought without words, mentally or verbally. It was both horrifying and comforting to know they still shared that ability, comforting because they were still able to connect to each other on some level, and horrifying because his instincts were proven right.

 

Erik returned his gaze back to the map of Colorado and wondered what dangers they may face together in the future. It would not be easy, could be wrought with nothing but sorrow, he knew that, but it brought a thrilling sensation to sing through his bones. Temporarily, at least, he had Charles by his side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused by the he/she/his/her thing between Charles and Emma, then you're not alone. I edited this chapter something close to 5 times before I gave up and decided to stick with this final edit. >_>
> 
> A man in a woman's body...I don't want to even imagine the hilarity (or mortification) that will result.


	5. Chapter 5

Sean learned the very hard way that Max Taylor did not like to be awoken from his sleep before he was ready. He had always thought that snappy attribute was something only the female population had, having incurred the wrath of his mother once when he was just a young boy; looks like he was wrong.

 

As he nursed a slightly bruised cheek, he threw the car keys onto the side table by the entrance of the house and proceeded straight towards the kitchen for something to eat. He hadn’t had a decent meal in days, and while he had plenty of things to eat at the various diners around the town he had visited, deep-fried foods did very little to sustain him. One could only enjoy it for so long.

 

He grabbed a green apple from the fruit bowl as he passed the dining table and stopped by the fridge to peer inside it. There wasn’t much to choose from; cheese, milk, butter, marmalade, eggs and bread, but an egg sandwich sounded much more appealing than deep-fried chicken and chips.

 

Before he could crack an egg on a heated pan, he heard the sound of a motorbike pull up next to his horribly parked (and slightly scratched on the underside of the bumper) car. He half-hoped that Alex hadn’t woken up Max because that guy has one hell of a right hook.

 

‘I’m trying to fucking sleep here!’

 

 _Opps, too late._ Sean winced at Max’s shouting, and was smiling slightly when Alex returned it with a, ‘There’s a fucking house right behind you; go sleep in a fucking room!’

 

‘Fuck off!’

 

‘Who the fuck are you anyway?!’

 

‘None of your fucking business!’

 

‘I’m _making_ it my fucking business!’

 

Then, a new voice. ‘Shit, man, you guys need to stop swearing so much.’

 

Curious, Sean turned off the gas stove and hurried on outside. As soon as he came into view of them, both Alex and Max were sizing each other up and glaring daggers. It was both worrying and hilarious. ‘Uhh-’

 

‘What is going _on_ here?’ Hank’s voice hissed as he emerged from the corridor that led to his laboratory and stepped up next to Sean and stared down at all of them.

 

Both the new comers’ jumped at the sound and their mouths hung open when they turned to the man in blue fur, but before they could get another word out, Hank sent a glare their way and growled. ‘I would appreciate it if all of you would be quiet; Charles is in a delicate position at the moment.’

 

Anger immediately drained from Alex, he asked; ‘What happened to Charles?’

 

Hank shook his head. ‘Nothing; he’s using Cerebro and it would be better for his concentration if nobody went around shouting at each other,’ and then he winced, ‘ah, verbally and mentally.’

 

Before Max could protest, he was quickly silenced with a hand over his mouth provided by Sean. ‘Why is he using Cerebro? Don’t we have enough co-ordinates from the last search?’

 

Hank turned his gaze away and shuffled his weight from one foot to another. ‘He didn’t tell me why, only that he needed to use it and would very much like it if he could have some quiet while using it, which is why I’m here performing sound-control.’

 

‘Ah, well then, in that case, since I’m crap at keeping my thoughts to myself, does anybody want to head out for something to eat? I’m starving.’ Sean asked as he let go of Max and wiped his hand on the side of his jeans.

 

Everybody, with the exception of Hank for obvious reasons, agreed and left in the Thunderbird. But halfway into town, the car stalled.

 

‘Uhm…’ Sean bit back a nervous smile.

 

‘What did you do?’ Alex asked as he stared at the other expectantly.

 

‘We’re out of gas.’

 

 _Oh, great…_ Alex rolled his eyes and huffed as he crossed his arms and fought back the urge to slap Sean one over the head. _This is just so typical._

 

They ignored the slight shake of the car as another vehicle drove past them while they argued amongst themselves.

 

\--

 

Someone was cooking in the kitchen, she could smell it even with a closed bedroom door and it smelled like overcooked eggs, slightly charred toast and burning bacon. With a smile, Raven quickly sprang from her bed and hurried to stop whatever it is that Charles was trying to do.

 

‘Charles, I hope you’re not going to eat that,’ she said as soon as the kitchen came into view. She tried not to grimace at the gathering black cloud hanging above their heads.

 

With a smile, he turned from the stove and waved his spatula at her. ‘Of course I’m not going to eat it; I made it for you.’

 

She laughed and turned off the stove before the bacon took a deeper color than what was considered normal and edible. ‘I’m sorry, Charles, but I am not going to eat your cooking.’

 

He tried not to look offended as he asked, ‘and why ever not?’

 

‘Because for all that genius you have in that brain of yours, you are a terrible, _terrible_ cook,’ she couldn’t help the cringe on her face when she noticed the plate of ‘food’ by the stove. ‘There’s a reason why you grew up with maids.’

 

Charles sighed good-naturedly, ‘I suppose I shouldn’t give up my day-job, then?’

 

‘Yes, please don’t.’ Raven said as she picked up the plate and proceeded to throw it out. ‘Why don’t I make us some pancakes while you work on your thesis?’

 

‘Excellent idea,’ he clapped his hands together in agreement then began his way towards his study, ‘we’ll need to do some shopping later, so it would be good if you could make a list of things for us to buy while you’re rummaging through the cupboards.’

 

She snorted and rolled her eyes. ‘I’m a waitress at work and a maid at home. Ah, the glamorous life of-’

 

Raven gasped, wondered why she was suddenly looking up at the smoke-covered ceiling then winced at the pain that stabbed at the back of her head. She closed her eyes and willed the throbbing sensation to fade away. It did not.

 

 _I can’t move._

She felt numb; found that she could only flex her fingers and toes – _is that supposed to be normal?  –_ and it worried her. __

_Charles._ She called for him but was greeted with silence. She tried again and wondered why he wasn’t replying or coming to see what happened to her. The sound of a plate smashing on the tiled floor should’ve been warning enough for him to come racing. She knew she asked him, made him _promise_ , not to read her mind but this was a situation where she needed him, so why wasn’t he helping her?

 

By her third call, she heard footsteps and she couldn’t help the frown on her face, nor the petulant tone in her head as she said, _Don’t just_ stand _there; help me!_

Instead of a helping hand, she felt a prick on the skin of her elbow and she gasped again.

 

 _What’re you-_

With a jolt, she opened her eyes to a room too white and too bright to be the kitchen, then realized with a sickening fear that she was exposed, from her golden eyes, to her red hair, right down to her blue skin. It was with another sickening jolt that she realized she was strapped down, and that the person staring down at her was not Charles.

 

‘Hello, my dear.’

 

For the first time in years, Raven wished she could scream for Charles to come rescue her. And that he could hear her.

 

\--

 

He felt a pang in his heart, a throb in his head and a stillness in his legs. As he wheeled his way out of the laboratory, his soul intent on getting outside for some fresh air, his mind replayed the conversation he shared with Erik. But even as Erik’s voice echoed in his head, the only thing he could find himself focusing on were the usable legs he had had beneath him.

 

Shoes and socks. It was something so ridiculously simple, yet it had brought a certain joy to sing in Charles’ mind. He had taken it for granted, he realized it soon after he lost use of his legs, but as he remembered the feeling of being able to _stand_ again, he couldn’t help the smile from appearing on his face as he wheeled down the corridor.

 

If he concentrated hard enough, he could still recall the memory. From the way the boots hugged the calves that didn’t belong to him or the texture of cloth that surrounded the toes that weren’t his. He could remember the tension of having to stand on his toes rather than the soles of his feet, and he wondered how women could stand that kind of torture. He agreed there was a certain aesthetic appeal to high-heeled shoes but having stood in those damn boots, he was beginning to reconsider their practicality. While he enjoyed the feeling of being able to stand and walk (or in his case, trip) again he wished the situation had been different; less tense, and that the body he was in didn’t belong to a woman; it was terribly odd.

 

‘Charles,’ Erik’s voice echoed in his mind, ‘you’re getting distracted; this is unlike you.’

 

He smiled softly. _This is exactly like me._ He shook his head to clear his mind; regain back his train of thought. _I need a plan; I can’t do this alone._

 

‘Charles,’ he began again, ‘Raven is important to you, I know that, but perhaps you should leave this to me.’

 

He could hear the question in Erik’s voice; he wasn’t making the decision for Charles, merely suggesting. Again, he shook his head, this time in a negative.

 

‘I need to do this, Erik; I want to make sure Raven is safe and whole.’ _Or as whole as when you last saw her._ ‘Will you help me?’

 

 ‘My friend,’ and he still meant it, even if they no longer took the same path despite having a similar end goal, ‘you need not ask for something I would more than willingly do.’

 

Charles closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh of relief, he felt reassured that they were one step closer to rescuing Raven. He only hoped that they weren’t too late.

 

As he slowed to a stop by the front door, Hank exited the corridor that led into the kitchen with a sandwich in hand. The blue-furred man almost dropped his snack in surprise to seeing Charles by the entrance hall when only minutes before he had been in the lab.

 

‘Are you going outside?’

 

‘Yes,’ he contemplated whether he should worry the others where he would be going; at least tell them not to expect him home for dinner, but decided that there wasn’t a need for them to know. Erik and Raven were still two very sensitive topics for them to talk about and whenever they were ever mentioned, even in passing, the ensuing silence always turned awkward.

 

‘Do you want me to accompany you?’ _Do you need my help?_

Charles smiled and chose to ignore the accidental broadcast. It was nice to know that they cared for him, deeply, but they’re still a long way to go to learning that he wasn’t as fragile as he had been during the first few months of his sudden condition. But he supposed that maybe his pride got in the way at times to accepting help from others.

 

 ‘No, Hank, but thank you,’ he said as he opened the doors and breathed in the outside air. It smelled like freshly trimmed grass; freedom. ‘I have a social arrangement to attend to, and a friend will be coming by shortly to accompany me.’

 

Hank’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and his joy and elation for Charles was coming off him in waves, echoing off the walls and increasing in volume. ‘Great! Only one person is allowed to be a hermit in this house, and that position has been claimed by me.’

 

Charles laughed, could feel the jest from the other taking over the anxiety he felt in his soul. It felt good to know that Hank was slowly coming to terms with himself, growing more confident and more accepting, even if sometimes he had some anger management issues, no thanks to his enhanced mutation.

 

‘I’m afraid I won’t be home for dinner,’ he settled to say and felt the light banter abate away, replaced with guilt. He wished he could tell Hank; the man had been very fond of Raven and although she betrayed them, his affection for her did not grow less.

 

‘It’s fine,’ he waved the issue aside and proceeded to take a large bite of the sandwich, ‘I am capable of making something for myself to eat.’

 

‘And the others?’ He asked and tried to reach out for them but felt them nowhere nearby, ‘I’m certain I heard shouting earlier.’

 

‘They went out.’

 

‘Ah,’ he fought back a sigh when he was able to pinpoint them four miles from the house and a good ten miles from the nearest town.

 

While the house was conveniently tucked away in the heart of the Xavier property, at times like these, privacy often became a nuisance especially when one is stranded in the middle of the open country road without petrol.

 

‘I may need to trouble you to go and fetch them.’

 

Hank sighed in resignation, ‘What did they do now?’

 

‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ he said as he glanced at his wristwatch, ‘They’re about four miles of here without gas.’

 

He sighed again and wondered if it was too soon for him to try one of his prototype devices that helped to hide his blue appearance. ‘Ok, I might as well test-run that gadget I’ve been working on, too.’

 

‘Oh?’ His interested piqued, ‘Were you able to prolong the battery life?’ It had only previously worked for a grand total of five minutes before, and shortly after that, fall to pieces from overheating.

 

‘I had to make it bigger, hold on, I’ll show you.’

 

Charles waited patiently by the door as Hank dashed back into the lab and came back out some minutes later looking less blue and more geeky scientist. He clapped his hands in astonishment, ‘Wonderful! And I see what you mean by bigger.’

 

The first prototype had been the size of a notebook; large and bulky and not at all inconspicuous, but after some refining and a bit of tweaking, Hank had been able to reduce the size down to a slightly large watch. Unfortunately, it couldn’t last very long, but the third trial run produced much better results. As they say, third time’s the charm.

 

Hank adjusted the belt to fit more comfortably around his waist; he may have to add another notch into it. ‘It’s not smoking yet, that’s a good sign.’

 

Charles smiled and wholly agreed. ‘Tell me how it goes when I return, alright?’

 

‘Of course,’ he beamed, happy to have been able to lift Charles’ mood which has been decreasing down to a somber amount these past few weeks.

 

As Charles watched Hank drive off in the slightly worn (no thanks to Sean) Cadillac with an extra tank of gas tucked away in the boot, he felt his fear and anxiety bubble from the pits of his stomach up to his throat. He was glad he hadn’t eaten anything except for his usual two toasts and a cup of tea for breakfast earlier in the day. After everything that’s happened within the last two hours, one more foul move and he was certain he might just lose everything on the plush carpet of his home.

 

Just as the car disappeared into the distance, another vehicle drove closer. The gravel crunched beneath the tires and a few stones occasionally glanced off from the disturbance. As it drove nearer to the front door, a wave of trepidation shook his entire being. This was going to turn into another very delicate situation and it was one of many things he feared confronting the most.

 

The car slowed to a stop just by the ramp, a recent addition to the house, and the engine cut off. Charles took in a deep breath and tried to appear as calm as possible even as a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. He was almost glad his emotions wouldn’t be felt by the other.

 

Finally, the door opened and Charles forced himself to keep his gaze on Erik, and not on the helmet he wore on the man’s head.

 

 Charles smiled, albeit atrociously, in greeting. ‘Erik, I see you are well.’

 

‘And I see that you are not.’

 

He tried to ignore the layer of hurt beneath the aloof tone, but even if Erik’s face failed to betray his inner conflict, his eyes revealed everything; the torment in his soul.

 

 ‘This is not about me.’

 

‘No.’ Erik tore his gaze away and discreetly smoothed out the dent he created on the car door. Charles hoped he wasn’t angry but it was obvious that, even without his Telepathic abilities, Erik was very much unhappy with the way their reunion turned out.

 

Without his consent, his wheelchair began its slow but steady descent down the ramp. Charles wasn’t too alarmed; he knew Erik would never intentionally harm him, not after everything that’s happened between them.

 

Without another word, nor a single touch, Charles was helped into the passenger seat and together they drove away from the mansion with only a specific destination in mind; Raven.

 

When they drove past two stray vehicles by the road, Erik spoke.

 

‘A word would've been helpful.’

 

He tried to hide his disappointment as he gazed down at his legs. ‘I couldn’t tell you, even if I wanted to,’ he tore his gaze away and focused on the road ahead of them, ‘it would not have changed anything between us either way.’

 

Erik stayed silent, but Charles knew what he said was true; they chose their paths, and the only moments when they would converge may very well be in the midst of battle where they would fight for what they each believed is right.

 

In this instant, the reason for their coming together is Raven. Raven, who is screaming for Charles and Erik at the top of her lungs and for the pain to _stop_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a dream. But when I woke up, I had no idea what it involved. Though!! I had a strange inkling that it had something to do with X-Men...
> 
> Maybe I'm just obsessed. XD Hah!!


	6. Chapter 6

Cool water dripped down onto the white porcelain basin from an unshaven chin. Marshal Coad took in his worn expression, his receding hairline and the bags beneath his eyes. For a man in his mid-thirties, he was often confused for being his own father and now he could see why. He never thought much of it, usually irritated when people comment that he looked just like his father, but at this moment, he could see his old man looking back to him.

 

Marshal Coad sighed as he ran a shaky hand through his ragged hair. He hadn’t had a proper moment’s of peace since the revealing of Colonel Ashton’s true identity. While picking up the man’s (woman’s) slack was not hard, the stress concerning his missing friend was slowly piling on his shoulders. He hoped that Ashton is fine, still alive preferably.  Though, it was unlikely.

 

He would readily admit that he had not been what most people would say _considerate_ but the both of them knew where their duties lie and when companionship had to come second, or not at all. Still, he regretted not spending more time with the other. Or perhaps, maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t been. He would’ve been an even more right mess had he been closer to the other than what was necessary.

 

He tore at the paper dispenser and dabbed at his face roughly. When at last he left the confines of the washroom behind him, his back held straight and his chin held high, he proceeded straight to the elevators that would take him down to the E.R level; the Experimental Room. As soon as the doors opened up for him and the screams that echoed from the too-white walls crushed his weary soul, he decided that the E.R level was wrongly named.

 

This was Hell.

 

\--

 

‘This, is not a good idea.’ Charles said as he stared at the red man standing by Erik with an outstretched hand towards him.

 

The ride into town had been short but entirely too awkward; it was difficult to speak of any discussions without inevitably bringing up a topic that would remind them of their mission and how they became the people they are today. More than once, Charles wished he could close his eyes and open them again to see Erik sitting across from him, martini in hand, playing the Black King and without the helmet on his head.

 

Shortly before Azazel’s appearance, Erik had parked the car in the back alley of a nameless street and as soon as he assisted Charles out of the vehicle, locked it with a mere wave of his hand.

 

‘I assumed you borrowed it?’ Charles asked with a cheeky smile playing on his lips, trying his best to forget their circumstances.

 

‘Of course; I have better means of transportation,’ and it was with a simple click of his fingers that the person in question appeared before his very eyes.

 

 _Ah, I should’ve known._ Of course, how it slipped his mind, he would have absolutely no clue.

 

It was not until Azazel had extended a hand towards him (with mixed intentions that Charles found half-humorous and half-terrifying) that he felt the first spikes of hesitation wrack through the top half of his body.

 

Erik did not seem deterred, if anything, he was more amused by Charles’ reluctance. ‘Are you saying that because you don’t trust me? Or is it perhaps you don’t trust him,’ he said as he nodded his head towards the other.

 

‘Neither. I’m saying this because I don’t think it would be wise for us to _pop_ into the facility without a good, solid plan,’ he said, having accidentally read the broadcast coming off from the red devil.

 

Erik grinned, widely. ‘That is not my intention.’

 

Azazel turned his gaze towards him, looking surprised, ‘Forgive me,’ he began in his thick accent, ‘I had assumed that you would want us to leave immediately for Mystique’s retrieval.’

 

He agreed and watched as the man’s tail curled in and upon itself like a tensely coiled wire ready to snap. ‘Yes, the sooner, the better. However, there are some things that require a finer touch than a simple disappearing act.’

 

There was something in Erik’s eyes that worried a part of Charles; a hidden plan he was not privy to, no thanks to the helmet the other wore. He sincerely hoped that he was merely overreacting to the entire situation that his instincts were running on overload; he didn’t want to second-guess his trust in Erik.

 

‘Then, why have you summoned me?’ His tail flicked in agitation. ‘Surely you are not…’ he trailed off, his unfinished question obvious only to the leader of their Brotherhood.

 

‘Yes, I am.’

 

‘Are you certain?’ Azazel asked as he gave Charles a quick questioning gaze. His tail stilled, as if holding its breath.

 

Erik nodded as he turned to the other, ‘I trust Charles.’

 

 _Your trust in your enemy is foolish._

Even without being given the entire picture, Charles could easily guess what Erik planned to do with Azazel. It helped that the red demon wasn’t entirely _quiet_ with his thoughts either. However, it felt good, wonderful even, to know that the trust he held in Erik was returned the same way.

 

‘I understand.’

 

‘And I would like it very much if you could fill me in.’ Charles said with a calm smile.

 

‘Rather than tell you, why don’t I show you?’ Erik said with another wide grin, his hand extended in very much the same way as when Azazel appeared and offered the same thing.

 

This time, Charles did not hesitate.

 

\--

 

Emma was, by nature, a very patient person. She had learned the hard (and oftentimes painful) way that rushing through plans usually, and always, brought nothing but disaster. Strategy, especially when it came to such delicate procedures concerning the welfare of her kind, was wholly and completely necessary. It didn’t matter if a plan was not fulfilled _to the letter_ ; all that mattered was the bigger picture.

 

However, she did not think Charles fit into the bigger picture, at least, not on their side of it.

 

As she gazed at the newcomer and at their supposed leader, she couldn’t help but wonder just what, exactly, the man was trying to do by bringing his ‘enemy’ here to their carefully hidden location. It was exactly because of the other Telepath’s abilities that they had painstakingly chosen such a far and secluded area to build the foundation of their Brotherhood. Now it seemed a waste.

 

‘Miss Frost,’ the man smiled charmingly, always the gentleman, putting their turbulent past behind them.

 

‘Mr. Xavier, what a pleasure to see you again.’ Considering that their last meeting involved the CIA, this reunion was in a much better setting.

 

‘Please, call me Charles,’

 

Erik tried not to roll his eyes at the behavior. He had heard from Raven about Charles, ah…past-times, but this was the first time he was seeing it this up close. He decided to cut in before everybody decided it would be fun to sit down and play ‘catch up’.

 

‘Emma, tell us what you know about Stryker.’

 

Charles’ head snapped towards Erik, his playful smile evaporated away, ‘Agent Stryker? Please tell me he has nothing to do with this.’

 

Charles remembered the man; late-fifties, portly, strong-willed and with a heart that’s focused on the protection of humanity. He had found nothing sinister within Stryker; no dark intentions that were notable. Was he wrong?

 

‘Not Agent Stryker;’ Charles almost breathed a sigh of relief; perhaps his judgment wasn’t completely off, ‘the Stryker we’re after is his younger brother, and his son.’

 

‘Doctor William Stryker Senior is a top researcher of genetic mutation,’ Emma began as she handed Charles a thin folder concerning the man in question, ‘and while our data surrounding him is very limited, we know that he performs various experiments on many ‘volunteers’, usually either casualties of war or from other people who want to better serve their country,’ she was barely able to hold back her disdain, though it was not clear to whom or where her disdain was directed to.

 

‘William Stryker Junior is very much the same,’ Erik said as he flipped open the folder four pages in and pointed out a photograph of a young man probably in his mid or late-twenties, ‘though, like all young men who attempt to follow in their father’s footsteps, he’s ignorant and naïve to the wrongs he’s helping to commit.’

 

Charles frowned. The man on the photo didn’t look threatening (unlike his father who did seem a bit menacing. It was probably his eyes). ‘We all strive for a better future; a brighter tomorrow,’ he said, trying not to sound hurt despite still feeling the pang in his chest at the words ‘ _ignorant’_ and ‘ _naïve’_ , ‘but we can’t help it when all one person sees are the wrongs in another person’s dream.’

 

Erik paused, feeling as though they weren’t exactly on the same page anymore. ‘It’s not wrong,’

 

‘But it’s not right, either.’

 

Emma was, by nature, a very patient person. But even she couldn’t help the slightest hint of frustration concerning the two men in front of her.

 

\--

 

She awoke to a searing pain in her chest, as though somebody was slicing her right open. She found, to her absolute horror, that what she saw reflected exactly what she felt.

 

Raven thought she had lost her voice hours ago when she had screamed herself raw all the while thinking – _Charles, Erik, Hank, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, save me, help me, please, please, stop!_ – but was surprised (or maybe not so) when her high-pitched cry was going on as strong as ever. However, the man above her was not discouraged by her obvious displeasure, if the excitement in his eyes were anything to go by.

 

She prayed that she would live through this to see Charles again. But another part of her wished that Charles would not come. _Hoped_ he would not come.

 

\--

 

So many possibilities, almost infinite; he was shaking at the prospect of such _discovery_. The pieces were falling into place, so close that he could almost _feel_ the final stroke on a masterpiece.

 

 _Just a little more._

 

\--

 

He had to turn his eyes away; this was wrong, all of it was wrong. But his father was right, he was always right, even if he was wrong.

 

As the blue woman’s scream tore at his crumpled soul, he wished he could squeeze his eyes shut, bring his hands up to his ears and block everything out; the world, the blood-stained walls, his morals, his father, her tears and her crying.

 

He had never believed in God, or in Heaven or Hell; dead is dead. But if there was ever a Hell, or anything close to it, this would probably make that list.

 

As a particularly high-pitched scream reverberated around and through him, he felt his resolve begin to crack at the strain from his inner turmoil of what he should believe and what he had wasted years fighting for.

 

 _Father,_ he thought as he watched her thrash violently but minimally against the holds against her, _I don’t know what I’m doing, anymore._


	7. Chapter 7

She was tired, feeling like she had just come out of a terrible nightmare, and wanted nothing more than to flop down on her nice bed and snuggle under the blankets with a pillow held close. But as she moved from one threshold to another, she felt as though she had just walked from one bad dream right into another.

 

She didn’t think she would ever see that face again, at least, not this up close and personal. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped right on top of her head, locking her in place, making her shrivel and freezing her to the core. As she stared into Charles’ smiling face, she couldn’t help but feel as though he was judging her.

 

‘Hello, Angel.’

 

Or maybe it was her guilt talking.

 

\--

 

‘Fascinating,’

 

William looked up from where he had been looking at her charts (because he couldn’t look at her while she was naked and covered in her own blood) and bit the inside of his cheek. Despite the fact that he was excited about the progress they were making concerning genetic mutation, he still felt sick to the stomach with the way they were making it. Too much, too fast.

 

He turned to another page, one that showed her vitals; they were abnormally high, but with the stress and pain they were causing her, he wasn’t surprised. ‘What is it, father?’

 

‘Look at this,’ he gestured for his son to come closer, ‘remember the blood sample we took from her? We made various guesses and estimations concerning her DNA. Rapid recovery was one of them and this proves it.’

 

Thrilled, but still wary, he carefully edged towards where his father stood by the operating table and gazed down at the rippling blue skin all the while averting his eyes from too-intimate parts of her anatomy. ‘I don’t see anything, father.’

 

‘That’s because you were too slow,’ he smiled patiently and proceeded to pick up a fresh scalpel from the stainless steel tray beside him, ‘allow me to demonstrate.’

 

As the sharp tool dug painfully onto her arm and drew blood, William grew pale. He flicked his attention to her face but noted nothing of her expressions. Perhaps she was too far under to feel anything anymore; this was both a good and bad sign. Good because she can be at peace, bad because they might have pushed her too far over the edge.

 

‘Watch carefully.’

 

His eyes turned back to the broken skin and watched as his father wiped the blood (red, not blue) from her arm with a sanitized paper towel and as the cut slowly knitted itself back together and the blood slowed to a mere trickle until nothing at all.

 

His father chuckled, and he belatedly realized that his mouth was hanging open and that he was holding his breath.

 

‘Like I said, absolutely _fascinating_. And this is only just the beginning.’

 

\--

 

‘Charles,’ Angel choked out, couldn’t figure out if she was intimidated or ungrateful, ‘what are you doing here?’

 

‘Well, it’s very nice to see you, too.’ He said unassumingly.

 

She remembered the first time she saw the man was in a strip bar; very undignified, but situations needed to be adjusted to and she adjusted to it as best as she could. The second time she saw him the man was reprimanding them for misbehaving in CIA territory; also very undignified, but the situation was tense and what better way to let loose than to…well, let loose? The third time she saw him was on the beach, as enemies, and that had been well over six months ago. She knew she would see him again, but she never once thought to assume that it would happen right in their headquarters. Safe to say, she was shocked speechless.

 

She stumbled over her words.

 

What was a person supposed to say to another who showed them so much, brought them together with other people just like them (they weren’t alone), only to turn their backs on them in return and betray them? There was nothing.

 

And then she saw the chair.

 

‘Oh, my God,’ a hand shot up to her mouth to cover the sob she felt on her lips.

 

Charles winced at the projection and saw himself through her eyes; trapped in a metal chair with unusable legs beneath him. He tried not to sigh.

 

‘It’s not that bad, really,’ but even he was having a hard time convincing himself when all he could feel was desolation running through his veins.

 

‘I am so-’

 

‘Angel,’ Erik began before the situation turned even more awkward than it already was, ‘you must be tired; go and rest.’

 

She stumbled over her words again, caught between wanting to stay and wanting to run away as fast as her legs and wings could carry her. When at last she left the room with as much calm dignity she could muster, she realized that the calm dignity was not her own.

 

\--

 

The sharpened knife he held in his hand gleamed off the bright lights of the room and created points of concentration on the walls. His patience was growing thin, and the more time they wasted on planning, the more she was wasting away.

 

 _Mystique._

 

It was _unnecessary_ ; he was more than capable of bringing her back and exacting revenge on her captors, so why must they insist that his skills was not needed? He scoffed and felt his tail flick and jab the air in agitation; a perfect mimic of his mood. Azazel was not happy.

 _Mystique._

 

Many times he had thought of leaving, disappearing against their supposed leader’s orders, but Magneto proved to be a very powerful and very dangerous person, especially when angered. He was not afraid, but it would prove helpful to stay on the man’s good sides. Still, that did not mean he was happy with how the situation was being carried out. Everything would go much more smoothly had he left and then returned with her in his arms.

 

He turned his gaze downwards at the knife he held in his hand and noticed the slightest speck of rust gathering near the hilt. He frowned. Then stood to direct his anger elsewhere because if he stayed, he might be tempted to bring the neck down close to Magneto’s neck and to do that to a man who could control and bend metal to his will was very much a bad idea. Still, he was quite tempted.

 _Mystique, do not worry; we are coming._

 

\--

 

‘I’ll give you some time to speak with Angel,’ Erik said as he opened the door to what was considered a ‘living room’ and showed Charles in, all the while ignoring the worried look Angel shot towards him as he made the suggestion, ‘because the next time you see her will not be in a friendly setting.’

 

Charles nodded, looking both proud of the blooming young lady yet heartbroken that their situations were now so vastly different. ‘I understand.’

 

With a quiet nod towards the other and a reassuring glance to the woman, Erik left them alone.

 

Charles stayed by the closed door, not wanting to intrude on her personal space. Even though he was a moderate distance away, she seemed to bristle at his mere presence.

 

To most people, as far as Charles has figured out, the area of their ‘personal space’ only extended as far as an arm’s reach and usually no more. For Angel, the whole room seemed to radiate in discomfort as though every inch was trying to repel him back out. He was both surprised and just a little hurt.

 

‘You don’t have to be afraid of me, Angel.’

 

She frowned and tried not to snap at him as she said, ‘Who says I’m afraid?’

 

He smiled at her pleasantly, disarmingly, ‘Maybe not with your voice, but your body language speaks volumes.’ _The fact that your mind is screaming and shouting at me in fear gave me that hint, too._

 

She changed the subject, ‘Are you here to try and ask me back?’

 

‘Not at all,’ he said sincerely. ‘You have made your choice by wanting to stay here; it is not my place to ask you to change everything about yourself to come back with us.’ _I will admit, to no one but myself, that staying here seems to bring out the better in you._

 

Angel harrumphed and turned her head away in a show of defiance that made Charles’ smile widen, ‘Good, because I wouldn’t have said yes even if you did ask.’

 

He continued to smile, ‘No, but I will say this; our home is always open to you.’

 

She kept her back to him, just so he wouldn’t see the tears sliding down her face, ‘You’re way too trusting, Professor.’

 

‘Only to those whom I trust.’

 

She laughed and discreetly wiped her tears away, hoping that her make-up wasn’t running, ‘Which would be everybody?’ Her hands came away black.

 

Charles frowned, remembering the exact reason why he was here, ‘No, not everybody.’

 

\--

 

In a room barely two doors down, Erik seemed to be radiating anger off him in resounding waves while Emma remained coolly aloof to everything. Were his helmet off, she might not be fully capable of forcing those emotions from overtaking her own, they were intoxicating.

 

‘Your behavior with Charles was-’ _completely unacceptable_ , ‘-less than pleasant.’ Erik said as he pulled Emma to the side.

 

She was supposed to brief him and adjust their plans while he went to speak with Azazel. What he heard when he returned to stand by the doors to his office made his mood prickle in fury. Erik had never been entirely fond of Emma, but he would admit that she was a very capable and a very strong woman. But he disliked her personality; it was everything that Charles was not, a complete opposite.

 

‘I’m sure someone of your caliber is more than capable.’ Emma said as she regarded the professor with a raised eyebrow, not at all acknowledging of his ‘condition’.

 

She was sitting on the edge of his work desk with one booted leg crossed elegantly over the other. Without trying, Emma was already much taller than Charles and to see her sitting like that, it made Erik feel as though she was looking down on him.

 

Charles smiled, not at all offended, ‘I assure you, despite how I look, I am still very much the same.’

 

‘Good,’ she said with a smile of her own then sighed as she examined her nails, ‘because it would be such a waste of a brilliant mind.’

 

The smallest of laughs escaped his lips. ‘Well, coming from you, it means quite a lot.’

 

‘Don’t get used to it, Sugar.’

 

The tone, the body language, just everything about Emma was so vastly different to what he was used to in a Telepath. Granted, he only knew two and that wasn’t a lot to go with but still; how can two mutants with almost the same abilities be poles so wide apart?

 

‘Why?’ Emma asked rhetorically, bringing Erik out from his inner thoughts. ‘Because I do not treat him any differently than I do to others?’

 

Erik wondered if, perhaps, he was being a bit too…sensitive when it came to how Charles came to be. He was responsible, he knew it, and it hurt him deeply to see his friend (enemy) become that way because of him; the stray bullet that changed everything.

 

No, everything was already changing; set in motion. The bullet was just icing on the proverbial cake.

 

As though sensing his loss of words, Emma broke the silence.

 

‘We Telepaths do not judge each other through shows of physical strength; our power lies within our minds.’ She would’ve provided an example, were she able to. ‘The mind is a fortress, and in my mind, his fortress is a strong and as unyielding as ever.’ _He still stands proud and tall, despite the hand he was dealt with._

 

She gracefully retracted her arm from his now loose grasp and gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘If you ask me, Erik,’ she said with the slightest tilt of her head, ‘I think you’re the one who can’t accept Charles’ new circumstance.’

 

The metallic paper weight on the desk crumpled in anger.


	8. Chapter 8

The clatter of metal upon wood resonated through the quiet and empty hallway. As Alex walked through with a rumbling tummy and a less-than-stellar mood, he had half a mind to skip pass the kitchen and go straight to the bomb shelter so he could stew and let off some steam. In the end, his hunger won out and he decided a quick bite would be a better way to spend his time.

 

As he took in the other voices coming in through the front door, he hoped that the added sounds and his mind weren’t so loud that it disturbed Charles in whatever he was doing.

 

And speaking of Charles, he should probably tell him that he was back with the new guy. It was more than likely that the Professor already knew but he’d rather report in than to assume that Charles knew everything that went on in the house. Telepaths were cool, but sometimes, they freaked him out, especially when they knew that he preferred to sleep on his right side than his left.

 

On the way to the study, he took a quick detour to the kitchen and picked up a banana from the fruit bowl for extra energy. With two new guys to add to the house, he figured things were probably about to get a little out of control.

 

‘Professor,’ he called out just as he neared the study that he knew Charles favored most of the time.

 

It was filled with books of various sizes and thickness, smelled of ink and paper; crisp. It had good lighting from the early morning to mid-afternoon with large windows that took up the majority of one wall. The carpet was firm, easy to maneuver around with, and quiet, unlike the tiles and hardwood floor that tended to grind and creak or squeak under the wheels of the chair.

 

The room radiated warmth, not only because of the fireplace that stood on the far side of the wall, well away from the books, but the deep auburns set in various shades around the study helped as well. It was comfy, and homey; well-used and a good place to go to if one needed some quiet time to do some proper paper work, or when one just needed some space to think.

 

‘We got the new guys in. Do you want us to-’ Alex stopped at the door, noticing that the room was entirely empty. He called out in question again and wondered if a Telepath trick was involved; Charles liked to have a little bit of (odd) fun, sometimes. Fun that involved ‘hiding in plain sight’. ‘Charles?’ He called out one more time.

 

No answer.

 

Alex scratched at his rough stubble in confusion and wondered where the man could be. Charles hardly ever went out, and when somebody ever called out for him either verbally or mentally, there was always a reply. A slight delay, sometimes, but he always answered the call.

 

Not knowing who better to ask, he strayed away from the study and went down the hallway towards the lab.

 

‘Do you know where the Professor is?’ Alex asked Hank just as the man took off the belt that hid his blue, beast-like appearance.

 

‘He said he was going out with a friend, and that we should eat dinner without him,’ he answered as he carefully placed the belt back down on his table in hopes that he might be able to improve it further.

 

‘A friend.’ He couldn’t help but sound skeptical.

 

In the entire time that Alex had known Charles, he knew the older man was an intensely introverted person, even more so after the events on Cuba. He was quiet, but not overly so, and definitely not shy. Charles was more the kind of person who preferred to have conversations without actually speaking. He said it was _groovy_.

 

After he helped Charles drive Moira McTaggert back to her apartment in Virginia, she was pretty much the last social connection he had with the outside world. Construction workers that helped renovate the mansion for better maneuverability did not count, simply because Charles erased that little tidbit of information for the sake of secrecy.

 

Apart from Moira, the only other friend he could recall Charles ever having was-

 

His heart stopped.

 

‘Did he say who?’ Alex asked urgently, trying not to seem too worried or too frantic, but he knew his emotions were being displayed on his face almost as obviously as a shining billboard hanging over his head. He probably ought to work on his poker face.

 

‘Uh,’ Hank floundered at the sudden shift in mood, ‘no? I don’t think he did,’ he paused and tried to call back on their earlier conversation. He shook his head. ‘No, he definitely didn’t say who, only that he had a social arrangement to attend to and that a friend was coming by to pick him up.’

 

Alex swore in his head; his instincts were screaming at him. _Something is wrong_. He wracked his mind, tried to piece together the puzzle, and thought back on when they left the house and when Hank came to pick them up. There was only a small window of opportunity, barely over twenty minutes, but it would’ve been long enough for Charles and his ‘friend’ to come by and go again. And if the ‘friend’ brought along another certain ‘friend’ then twenty minutes was overkill.

 

‘Hey, Alex,’ Sean popped by and offered an unwanted distraction, ‘Ray says he needs your help with the car; said the gas is leaking so there’s probably a loose part somewhere.’

 

‘Huh?’

 

‘I’m clueless with cars or anything like that; it’s more your forte.’

 

Alex was well aware he was making a face; the situation was so bizarre that he didn’t even know what to make of it. He was just about to tell Sean to go help the guy – _how hard could it be? It’s just a loose part_. – so he could stay and interrogate Hank some more when something suddenly clicked into place.

 

The car.

 

A car drove past them just after they broke down and another car, possibly the same one, drove past them again a little while later. The only destination the road they were on was either headed straight into town via an off-road section or straight towards the mansion.

 

The car is made of metal.

 

What are the odds that a piece of it comes loose causing them to stall on the side of the road, what are the odds that a car driving past them straight towards the mansion had a mutant who could manipulate metal from a considerable distance, what are the odds that the occupants of the car is one Charles Xavier and one Erik Lehnsherr?

 

‘Shit!’

 

Hank and Sean jumped at the sudden outburst.

 

The odds are against him, it was too _bizarre_ , but his instincts, which he had slowly learned to trust, all thanks to the Professor, are rarely wrong. And he had the distinct feeling that his guesses were entirely right. In which case, they might just be in trouble.

 

‘What the Hell, man?’ Sean frowned. ‘If you don’t wanna do it, then I’ll go and tell Raymond; you don’t have to shout.’

 

‘No!’ _Holy shi-_

 

‘Alex, are you OK?’

 

He turned his widened eyes towards their resident scientist and slowly shook his head. ‘I think we’re in trouble.’

 

\--

 

 _This is certainly unexpected_. Charles thought to himself as he took in their new surroundings. He knew they would reappear in the Colorado hills, close to where Raven was located, but he didn’t think the view would be so breathtaking. He wished he had visited the hills before the war between humans and mutants erupted; a picnic in the shade with a good book sounded marvelous in his head. A set of usable legs beneath him , Raven, Erik and the others would make it even better.

 

‘We’re not here for sight-seeing.’

 

‘Of course, my apologies.’ He said as he brought a hand to his temple and erased their presence for easier infiltration. The smoke from Azazel would be harder to mask and who knew if it might provoke the multiple smoke alarms they had on the facility. It would be troublesome to disable all of them, so this was as far as Azazel was allowed to carry them.

 

The man was gone with an agitated flick of the tail before either of them could ask that of him. Charles knew he was angry, wasn’t happy with his lack of contribution. Azazel’s soul was roaring, and it made thinking very difficult and serenity hard to muster.

 

‘Are you ready?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

Without another prompt, they began their way towards the facility, through the way Raven had constantly blinked in and out of during the first few days of her stay. As soon as the door was open with an easy wave of the hand, Charles doubled over and gripped his head in a silent scream.

 

‘Charles!’

 

‘Raven, I can’t-’

 

He squeezed his eyes shut.

 

\--

 

Her screams turned into sobs, and she thrashed with even more vigor against the leather straps that held her down. She cried. _Run! Run, Charles! Hurry!_

 

\--

 

His eyes snapped open.

 

‘We need to hurry.’

 

Without waiting for Erik, he quickly pushed on ahead of him straight towards the elevators. A quick scan within the minds – _she’s so blue – she won’t stop screaming – she is magnificent –_ of the people close by confirmed that where he needed to go was down.

 

He held onto his illusion desperately, while trying not to crumble under the strain and pain he felt gushing from Raven in shattering torrents. In the back of his mind, he knew Erik was right behind him, giving his chair that extra push that he needed to _hurry_. They needed to hurry.

 

Another cry crippled him just as the elevators grew within his reach, but his wheels did not falter.

 

He gasped.

 

\--

 

She cried. _No! No, Charles! Run! You need to run!_

 

He could feel tears, her tears through his eyes, flowing freely down his face. _How can I? I will not leave you._

 

She screamed even harder. _Run!!_

 

\--

 

A shuddering breath escaped him and when his eyes focused, he realized he was trapped within metal walls that moved steadily, hurriedly, downwards.

 

‘Erik-’

 

‘I know.’

 

‘They’re moving her.’ _The wheels are turning_.

 

Erik snapped his head towards Charles and stared at him with widened eyes. ‘What?’

 

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know where the father is,’ _it’s like he’s not there anymore;_ ‘I only know that the son is moving Raven to another room.’

 

‘How far?’ He seethed with clenched fists.

 

‘Not further, but closer.’

 

‘Excuse me?’

 

‘He knows we’re coming.’ _He’s sorry, but it’s not enough._

 

‘And if he believes him that I will hurt him any less then he has clearly mistaken me for a merciful man.’ Erik scoffed. ‘I will scar him deeper than what humans can tolerate; he will not leave unscathed.’

 

Charles placed a calm hand on the man’s arm. ‘Erik, please-’

 

He whirled on him. ‘No, Charles! This is _Raven_! They’ve hurt her, and depending on how much damage they’ve inflicted on her, I will return it two-fold, and more.’

 _We have it in us to be the better men._ Charles thought desperately to himself, could feel it echo back to him in a failed attempt to reach Erik.

 _We already_ are _the better men._ He could hear Erik return, despite the helmet.

 

The doors slid open before they reached their destination, and as soon as they came level to level with the floor, they found a sedated Raven and a confident, albeit, shaky man.

 

With a raised hand, the man was forcefully shoved onto a wall, his watch, metal cufflinks and belt holding him suspended with his feet barely touching the ground.

 

The man gasped, never having encountered such a powerful mutant face to face before, the people they have/had paled in comparison. He thought the blue woman was awe-inspiring, but this man was that and more. It felt as though he radiated sheer power and William felt intoxicated from being caught right in the middle of it. It felt as if he was drowning in it, then he belatedly realized that the man had a hand wrapped tightly around his neck.

 

‘You must be William,’ Charles said as he wheeled up to sit beside Erik.

 

He gasped in answer.

 

\--

 

The man lay in a crumpled mess on the floor, on top of a bed of folders and papers that unfortunately got in their way during their interrogation. Erik walked away in satisfaction. Charles, however, did not feel the same way.

 

‘Was that really necessary?’ He asked as he took in the blossoming bruise on the fallen man’s temple; it did not look good, and that wasn’t even including the other bruises hidden under the lab coat.

 

‘You have your technique, and I have mine.’ Erik returned as he walked past Charles, past Raven and towards the double doors on the far side of the room. Someone was there, he could feel it. And it felt familiar.

 

‘Erik,’ he started, just before the man got too far from him, ‘go find the others; there’s more of us here, not just Raven.’

 

He stopped in his tracks. ‘Where?’

 

Charles almost breathed a sigh of relief; he needed to provide this distraction, or there might not be a William Stryker Senior left to pick the pieces from. ‘There’s five altogether,’ he said as he pointed to a single door just off to the side, closer to the elevators, ‘in rooms’ 292, 495, 677, 816 and 935.’

 

He weighed his options and pondered on his next move, for the longer he stalled by trying to free others, the furtherer away Stryker would get from them.

 

‘I can’t do this alone.’

 

Those words dissolved any hesitation Erik felt about the situation. If the man got away, then so be it; he’ll have another opportunity to fulfill his vengeance sooner or later. But for now, Charles needed him.

 

‘My friend, you are not alone.’                                         

 

Charles smiled, something he couldn’t remember doing very much of since the events of Cuba, but he felt the warmth in his heart and peace in his soul. ‘Be careful.’

 

‘And you.’

 

\--

 

He could feel his mind going ballistic; how they managed to let Charles, and possibly _Erik_ , snoop away from right under their noses was just unbelievable. It was just _bizarre_. There was always, _always_ someone with Charles, or close to him, and the one time nobody was around, he was gone.

 

‘And you just let him go? Without even asking _who with_?’

 

Hank tried to reign in his growing anger, knowing that if he slipped, it could result in someone getting seriously hurt. ‘Charles has his own life; I can’t invade his privacy like that. I mean, who am I, his _father_?!’

 

‘No, you’re just too trusting.’

 

‘And you’re just too paranoid!’

 

‘Hey,’ Sean cut in before Alex blew a hole somewhere and before Hank threw him through said hole, ‘do we really need to fight about this, I mean-’

 

Alex turned on him. ‘And you’re useless!’

 

‘Hey!’ Sean Cassidy was many things, but he was almost completely certain that useless was not one of them. ‘Don’t force your anger out on us! Not cool, man.’

 

He ignored that protest and turned to the new-comers and jabbed a finger at them. ‘We can’t use them, either. Unless all we needed to find Charles is with a guy who can talk to animals.’

 

‘What about you, Max?’

 

The man in question grew flustered (it was uncertain if he was flustered by the sudden attention or from the man in blue), ‘ah, well…’

 

‘He can see dead people,’ Sean cut in before Max could fully open his mouth, ‘that’s why he’s such an ass half the time.’

 

Alex sighed. _This is just great…_

 

\--

 

He checked her pulse; they’ve returned to normal. He peaked into her dreams; they seem calm. He quickly looked over her body; she did not seem permanently scarred, but he wasn’t sure if her mind would fully recover from this ordeal.

 

Charles sighed and wished this was all he had to do; rescue Raven and leave this place. But as he turned his sights to the double doors that seemed to loom ominously on the far side of the room, he knew that things could not end the way they were.

 

Someone was waiting for him on the other side of the doors, and if his gaze into the younger William’s mind was correct, then the person that would greet him from beyond would be the man’s father.

 

Stryker.

 

Slowly, almost anxiously, he wheeled his way towards the doors and pushed his way in. It was difficult, with one hand on the door and the other on his wheels, but eventually, he made it through.

 

The doors had a sheet of metal covering it on both sides with a line of dark-tinted fur on the seams. It was weighty, basically designed to keep the rooms on either side air-tight. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that, apart from the sheet metal, it was entirely made of wood. But why was it so heavy?

 

Slightly huffing, he made a mental note to himself that he should probably work on his upper body strength; he couldn’t remember the last time he truly exercised. Rehab did not count.

 

As Charles progressed further into the room, he noticed what looked like air vents lining between all along the four walls on the mirror-covered ceiling. He shuddered to think what they did within these walls. It was too white, too bright, too sanitized, and too clean.

 

He could understand the mirrors on the ceiling; he remembered attending a class of a mutual friend of another friend. He had nothing to do so he decided, _why not_? He regretted the decision to join the class as soon as he walked in through the doors leading into the surgery room. It was a bloody affair. But many of the other attendants were curious and eager to learn more, unlike him. And if people had any difficulty trying to see onto the operation table, all they had to do was look up. However, he didn’t know what the mirrors on the floor were for. It was a dizzying sight.

 

Charles didn’t like this room. Not only did it give him a headache, it gave him bad memories. As much as he wanted to push on, he found himself completely stuck in the moment and in the past.

 

A man stepped into the room, startling Charles out of his thoughts, and as soon as the doors closed behind him, a solid wall the same size as the air vents slammed down on all four sides and blocked his two possible escape routes.

 

‘Ah,’ the man smiled pleasantly, but his eyes gleamed dangerously, ‘just the man I was waiting for.’

 _Stryker._

 

It wasn’t until he realized that he was enclosed in _silence_ that he knew why Raven wanted him to run so desperately; she was the bait and he was the catch.

 

‘There’s nowhere for you to run,’ he paused when he noticed the chair, his grin turned sinister, ‘but I suppose I won’t have to worry about _that_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're just about there. I reckon about a couple more chapters and that'll be a wrap!! Bravo!
> 
> Also, I would like to thank everybody for reading with me, for bookmarking, for leaving kudos and for those who commented, on or off site.
> 
> Cheers! After this, I'm going to have a good marathon with Doctor Who. Huzzah! Magic number is 11.


	9. Chapter 9

‘So, dead people, huh?’

 

‘Yup, there’re three in this house.’

 

‘Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.’

 

‘Nope.’

 _Great…_

 

\--

 

‘You, are a very hard man to find,’ he clucked his tongue in mild disappointment, ‘I went through quite a few of my resources in search of you.’

 

‘I’m quite selective, I’m afraid.’ _All for good reason._

 

He sighed. ‘That is a shame; we could’ve made quite the brilliant team, you and I.’

 _I sincerely doubt that._

 

‘No matter,’ he said when Charles offered nothing on his thoughts, ‘now that you are finally here, we can begin.’

 

Charles’ eyes strayed to the helmet lying atop the man’s head; it bore a striking resemblance to another certain helmet, but unlike the other, this one frightened him much more.

 

Stryker noticed the gaze and smiled. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ The man said as he tapped his helmet. ‘We work very closely with the Russians now that we have a similar, ah…point of interest.’

 

Charles swallowed the lump that was building in his throat and forced his voice to work with as much calm as he could manage. ‘What is it you want from us?’

 

He folded his arms behind his back. ‘Everything. But you,’ he chortled, ‘you are a very, very special and very, _very_ powerful mutant.’ He said as he began a slow circle around the other. ‘You will prove to be a very, very _valuable_ asset within our ranks.’

 

‘I’m sorry,’ not really, ‘but I’m afraid we have a conflict of interests.’

 

‘For now,’ he agreed and came to a stop just behind Charles, ‘but in time, I’m sure we can _persuade_ you otherwise.’

 

This man was insane.

 _Erik._

 

\--

 

There was a man who didn’t know his own name, a woman whose eyes rapidly changed color, another woman who was trapped in a very deep sleep, and two other men who were adamant in staying. Erik wasn’t quite certain how to go about this on his own; perhaps he should’ve asked Charles to come with him.

 

‘Why do you stay,’ he demanded to know. If it were him, he would try desperately to get out and run as far and as fast as he possibly could, something which he had done many times before but had only succeeded in accomplishing once. Even then, he did not manage to get very far before his past caught up with him and tore his life apart all over again.

 

The man, one of the two that wanted to stay, stood proud and tall as he said, ‘I stay because I believe this will change the world.’

 _Yes, but whose world?_ ‘Do they treat you well?’

 

‘It’s not a question of whether we are treated well or not; all that matters if whether the pain is worth it or not.’

 

Erik turned his attention to the other man, the quieter of the two. ‘Is it worth it, then, for you?’

 

The man faltered, and seemed to shrink away from the question. He failed to make eye contact as he murmured, ‘only sometimes.’

 

The other man, his partner, grabbed his arm in an urgent gesture. ‘Don’t.’

 

Erik almost felt victorious. ‘It seems that your…conviction needs work.’

 

His frown deepened as he turned his attention back to their supposed rescuer. ‘Maybe so, but it is ours to serve.’ _And we would happily serve it_ , was the silent remark.

 

‘There are better ways to serve your purpose; why subject yourself to being _lab rats_ for the sake of others?’

 

‘Because other people won’t.’

 

Erik wondered if perhaps he was too late to help them.

 

\--

 

This man was insane; he was clearly not of sound mind. Those eyes did not belong to a sane man.

 

Calmly, Charles wheeled his chair to face the man; he did not feel comfortable exposing himself so much more than he already was. He already has quite a few disadvantages; one less would be beneficial.

 

‘What are your intentions?’ He asked in an attempt to both stall and gather information.

 

‘My intentions? Is it not obvious?’ Stryker returned with an amused smile.

 

‘Humor me, then.’

 

He sighed good-naturedly. ‘If feels like I’ve been repeating this story to almost everybody within this facility, but I suppose one more time couldn’t hurt,’ he said as he cleared his throat twice and shuffled his hands into his pockets. ‘I intend to pave a way to a brighter, more efficient world. Imagine how much better and stronger we would be with mutants, like yourself, on our side.’

 

Charles attention was piqued; despite the man’s foul methods, was it possible that they both have the same dreams?

 

‘There are so many possibilities, so many paths to explore; who says we can only have it one way? Why not both? This could benefit everybody greatly! Do you see?’

 

Even with the dangerous and frenzied gleam in the man’s eye making Charles feel somewhat uncomfortable, he could not help but agree with the barest nod of the head.

 

Every project always starts off with good intentions, but sometimes, people like Stryker stray from what is moral and what is not for the sake of the final solution. Charles hoped that perhaps he could guide the man back on the right path. On another note, he wondered if he’d become like the other man in the future if he didn’t have anybody to help him keep his head on straight.

 

‘You see it,’ the man smiled triumphantly as he moved towards Charles and stopped just a foot away, ‘I know you do; you understand.’

 

‘I do,’ he admitted, ‘I want coexistence, a unity of both our species; peace.’

 

He clapped his hands in an exuberant manner. ‘Excellent! I thought convincing you would be difficult, but we see eye to eye; we understand.’

 

The man’s eyes still worried him, but he has good intentions, Charles was certain of that.

 

‘Excellent, excellent,’ Stryker started speaking to himself as he paced the length of the room with a wild look about his eyes, ‘now, all that’s left to do is to convince everybody else. And with your help, it would make everything very simple.’

 

An alarm started to ring in Charles’ mind. ‘By help, I hope you mean ‘moral support’.’

 

‘Yes, yes, of course, but some people may also require some, ah…persuasion, if you understand what I mean,’ he said with a playful wink.

 

Charles frowned. ‘You mean brainwashing.’

 

Stryker scoffed and waved the idea aside. ‘There is no such thing; there is only positive or negative reinforcement.’

 

‘With all due respect, I don’t believe changing a person’s moral core is the right thing to do.’

 

The man frowned; his age lines becoming more prominent, seemingly highlighted by the sharp lines of the helmet he wore. Then, he sighed as he withdrew in himself with both hands in his pockets. ‘You know,’ he began as he walked closer until he stood almost knee to knee with the other and placed one hand on his shoulder, ‘I was sincerely hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but maybe you need to sleep on it.’

 

‘I’ve made my decision.’ _I will not sway._

 

Stryker did not answer, merely applied a tighter squeeze on his shoulders and stared straight into unmoving eyes.

 

The sound of pressurized air being released offered Charles a minor distraction, but he did not look away. He was adamant, and would not yield to the ideals of another man who, while he was not wrong, he was also not right. Charles had already made some bad decisions in his life; he did not need to add another so soon after what happened on Cuba.

 _Something is wrong._

 

‘Is something wrong? You seem tired.’

 

Charles slowly swallowed the lump that was no longer growing in his throat and made to maneuver back a few feet from the man. Maybe he just needed his personal space back. Or maybe he just needed some air.

 

His fingers slipped; he couldn’t grip the wheels properly.

 

‘Do you need some help? We have many spare rooms available for you. I’ll even let you pick.’

 

Sweat was forming in large beads across his forehead and his entire body felt like dead-weight.

 _Something is wrong_.

 

He looked down.

 

A medium-sized dart was buried deep to the hilt on his thigh. With a startled gasp, he pulled the needle out and threw it as far as he could. His world tilted dangerously. The momentum overtook his balance and he slipped off his chair, landed in an undignified heap on the floor at the man’s feet. He tried to calm his breathing and focus on everything but the hazy blur gathering on the edges of his mind but all he could see was a pair of polished black suede shoes.

 

‘Here,’ Stryker said as he leaned down and offered a hand, ‘let me help you.’

 

Charles desperately tried to reach out to Erik as his mind came to a sudden blank. He heard nothing but silence.

 

\--

 

He could not ask them to leave; they would not be convinced to leave. Despite the seemingly bleak situation, the man who couldn’t remember his name and the woman with the colorful eyes also chose to stay. As he walked away, he could not help but feel as if he was making the wrong decision. It was their right to stay, but were they making an informed decision? Erik felt as though he wasn’t giving them enough hope.

 

‘You won’t come with me?’

 

‘We’re not like you.’ _We’re humans turned mutants._ ‘When we joined, we knew what we were giving up.’ _This is all we have left, and we have to see it through._

 

But hope was not his to give; he only gave hard facts. If only Charles were here with him.

 

He made sure to leave the doors unlocked, with the dead-bolt lying in a degraded pile of scrap on the floor, should they change their minds, it was still not too late.

 

When Erik came in through the single door leading towards where he had last left Charles with Raven, he found no Charles, but he noticed that Raven was slowly coming to. He hurried to her side.

 

‘Raven, are you hurt?’

 

She withdrew from his touch, and stared at him with fearful eyes before recognition slowly dawned on her. Despite seeing a familiar face, she remained terrified.

 

‘Where is Charles?’ She quickly sat up and looked around for the man whom she considered a dear brother to her. ‘Please, tell me you took him away.’

 

‘I-’ he faltered, not quite sure what to say, ‘I don’t understand-’

 

‘Charles!’ She screamed at him as she made to jump off the movable table, but couldn’t make full use of her legs just yet; Erik had to hold her before she fell. ‘He’s in danger!’

 

‘He is not-’ he stopped and looked around the quiet room from where he was kneeling on the floor; Charles was nowhere in sight. Where could he be?

 

Raven began to mumble to herself as tears welled in her eyes. ‘I can’t hear him; he won’t answer. Oh, my God, Charles.’

 

Erik took a deep breath, grabbed hold of her shoulders and stared into her eyes. ‘Raven, from the beginning.’

 

She shook her head, her tears making erratic trails on her face, as she frantically grabbed a fistful of his clothes as she whispered urgently. ‘They want Charles.’

 

It seemed a terrible cycle; at the beginning, he found Charles and Raven. Or more specifically, Charles found him. Then later, he lost Charles but gained Raven’s loyalty. Somewhere along the way, Raven disappeared and Charles appeared in her place in a cruel but timely ‘switch’. Despite now having Raven within his grasp, he had somehow managed to lose track of Charles in the short time he was away. It seemed that he could only have one or the other and it pained him that he couldn’t have both in his life.

 

The sound of crumpled paper echoed through his helmet and he looked down at his chest, to where Raven was trying desperately to integrate a piece of paper onto his clothes. He tore it away from her vice-grip, barely spared it a glance as he tossed it to the side, but a glance was all he needed to suddenly see nothing but red.

 

\--

 

He could feel metal behind the doors, familiar and intimate to him like a knife to his heart.

 

He told Raven to stay behind, threatened to strap her back onto the table should she follow him without his consent. If what he felt behind those closed doors were true to his instincts, then he might not be entirely capable of his actions. If someone were to end up hurt, he would prefer if Raven did not become that someone.

 

The room was like a beautiful mockery to his memories of Cuba, and he wanted to smash it into pieces. However, the mirrors that surrounded him were not the ones to hold his attention; it was the King of the White Knights lying unconscious on the floor.

 _Charles._

 

And the man, also familiar to him like a close enemy, was standing above Charles like another terrible mockery of his memories. Erik felt his blood begin to sing.

 

‘I should’ve known Mr. Xavier didn’t come alone, but when he was the only one in the room, I assumed he somehow managed on his own.’

 

Erik noticed a stray dart lying not too far away from Charles with his wheelchair perhaps a foot or a half away from his body. The man was entirely too still for his comfort.

 

‘Oh, don’t mind him;’ Stryker said as he stared down at the sleeping man, ‘he’s just tired, that’s all.’

 

Erik felt his blood sing in a crescendo. ‘Do you know what I can do?’

 

‘Of course; you’re a man who can control metal,’ he answered with a smile as he held up a dart-gun, ‘and this is entirely made of recycled plastic; I’m environmentally friendly.’

 

‘Did you know I can also control metal that you cannot see or touch?’ He asked as he raised his hand and reached for the man.

 

The man guffawed. ‘Metal that you cannot see or touch? Are we playing a game?’

 

Erik smiled and felt his blood surge through him. ‘Did you know that the human body is comprised of traces of certain metals?’

 

His grin fell. ‘Yes, of course; I’m a scientist, but the amounts are far too minimal for you to be able to control.’ He is confident in his knowledge; the man who can control metal cannot control him. __

‘That may be so, but how willing are you to test this?’

 

Stryker tightened his grip on his gun, loaded with an extra dart. ‘It’s impossible,’ he is confident in his knowledge.

 

‘But you’re a scientist; nothing is impossible.’

 

‘It’s _impossible_!’

 

‘Do you believe in evolution?’

 

The sudden change in topic threw him off-guard, but when he caught up with the question asked, he scoffed and fought the childish urge to roll his eyes. ‘Of _course_ I believe in evolution; you’re living proof!’

 

Erik’s grin widened and he felt his chest swell. ‘Let me show you how I’ve evolved.’ He squeezed.

 

Stryker gasped, felt a sudden punch in his chest and clawed at the stark white fabric of his coat. He struggled for breath, for balance, fell to his knees and looked up at the man that held his rapidly beating heart in his enclosed fist. He was no longer confident in his knowledge, and the man was no longer smiling.

 

‘I am going to stop your heart, since you don’t seem to be using it.’ __

He saw bright lights.

 _My son, I have seen the future, and it is glorious._

\--

 

Raven looked down at the crumpled paper clutched in her hands. It was a snapshot of Charles talking to someone who wasn’t included in the picture.

 

 It was taken before Cuba.

 

\--

 

He knelt down by the sleeping man and gingerly held him in his arms as he whispered to him, ‘we should stop finding ourselves in these kinds of situations, my friend.’ The only positive thing about this picture was that Charles was simply sleeping rather than dead like the many times he had dreamed happened.

 

Carefully, Erik picked him up and walked out of the room that seemed to mock him at every turn. He was only able to breathe once he was out of it.

 

‘Oh, my God, Charles!’

 

Raven limply ran up to them and felt for his pulse.

 

‘He’s fine, just sleeping.’

 

Her anxious eyes shot up to meet his but quickly strayed to the closed doors behind Erik’s broad shoulders. ‘Is he…’

 

‘It’s done,’ he offered no other explanation, but she nodded in bleak understanding. As they moved, she found she could not let either of them go.

 

Everything that happened felt like a dream; a terrible nightmare, and she was finally waking up.

 

\--

 

The sky was clear and the sea was a dazzling blue. Beneath his feet he could feel grits of half-wet sand pinched between his toes.

 _Something is wrong_.

 

The tropical plants behind him were lush and plentiful. Above him, young coconuts hung from their lofty perch and barely swayed against the soft breeze.

 _Something is wrong._

 

One step after another, he took towards the calm ocean. One step after another, he walked on into the cold waters until his feet no longer touched the soft ground.

 _Something is wrong._

 

He was soaked, the water lapped at his chin. He dunked his head under and lunged back up again in a gush and sprinkle.

 _Something is wrong._

 

The ocean stretched as far as his eyes could see and there was not a drop of cloud in the sky. Where was the sun? He looked at his shadow, but saw nothing but his distorted reflection. He looked behind him, and saw nothing.

 _Something is wrong_.

 

He began to swim. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. He did not go that far; the island could not have disappeared from his sights so soon. He swam.

 _Something is wrong._

 

His breath began to tire, so were his arms and legs. He paused to regain his bearings; was he swimming in the right direction? But everywhere he looked, he saw only the endless sea and the endless sky above and below him.

 _Something is wrong._

 

He dunked underwater, and resurfaced with a gasp. Something was pulling him down. He tried to kick it away, but his knees were locked tight. He dunked underwater again.

 _I can’t feel my legs._

 

He opened his eyes and saw a blurring darkness. He swam for the surface but found himself sinking deeper. He did not swim that far; why is there no sand beneath him?

 _I can’t feel my legs._

 

Charles drowned.


	10. Chapter 10

‘So, this practically makes you a ghost whisperer, huh?’

 

‘If you want to put it that way, sure.’

 

‘Cool.’

 

‘Sure.’

 _Great…_

 

\--

 

Time was not a big issue. At least, not to one who seemed to be immortal, or close to being one. Over the years, he had learned how to make full use of his time; be productive. But the next fifteen minutes proved not only to be agonizingly slow, but everything he did provided very little in terms of efficiency and distraction. Nothing was helpful enough to stop him from counting the seconds of every passing minute, not even the sharpening of his blades. If he kept going, there might not be anything left to them.

 

Azazel was nearing his sixteenth minute.

 

If asked, he would not admit that he was listening closely for that familiar click of fingers, or call of his name. If asked, he would definitely not admit that he greatly missed the company of the blue woman whom he had slowly come to know. If asked, he would most certainly never admit that he _cared_ for her.

 

On the other side of the room, Emma sat with one leg elegantly crossed over another, polishing and buffing her manicured nails with the same amount of attention and devotion he gave his weapons; slowly, carefully and meticulously.

 

He paused, waited, then continued on again. Azazel repeated this three more times before Emma finally sighed and decided to forgo her own choice of distraction.

 

‘You’re being awfully loud, Sugar.’

 

He frowned. ‘Two of our members are missing and the leader of our enemies is with them, are you not worried?’

 

She tilted her head and said, ‘no; I have faith.’

 

Azazel snorted. ‘Do you really?’

 

Emma hummed, the smallest of smiles appearing on her lips. ‘No, not really.’ She then crossed her legs the other way and continued on. ‘But you don’t have to worry about waiting any longer.’

 

She had barely finished her sentence before Azazel disappeared in a puff of red smoke. Emma tried not to laugh at the foolish demon for falling in love with another. But she supposed that love did many scary things to a person. She would know.

 

\--

 

Weightless, breathless, useless.

 

Charles wondered if he was dead, but as soon as the thought occurred, he felt a spasm shake through his body; no, he was definitely not dead.

 

‘Charles, Charles, I’m here.’

 

He sighed. ‘Erik.’ _That cannot possibly be my voice._ It sounded too weak, even to his own ears. He wanted to open his eyes, but was worried he might not like what he saw if he did. He kept them shut.

 

He felt something snake beneath his shoulders and end at his bicep; someone was holding him. It felt warm, and comforting.

 

‘It’s OK. We’re home.’

 

Charles cried in tired relief; they were home, but which one? He held onto Erik desperately and whispered, ‘Erik, please, I cannot bear to do this alone,’ _to go back to a home where every room reminds me of better times._

 

‘You are not alone, Charles,’ he said quietly as he gave the man a reassuring squeeze, ‘you have your family, and I have mine.’

 _That is not what I meant_. But Charles knew what Erik was trying to say; they’ve chosen their sides, and this was the consequence of separation.

 

This was one of those bad choices that Charles made that he wished many times he could do over again. This was one of those bad choices that tore Charles apart from the inside out. This was one of those bad choices where Charles constantly wished he had been stronger; a better friend. As it was, what’s done is done.

 

But it never stopped him from wanting to turn back time.

 

When Charles was finally able enough to open his eyes, he saw a room not too dissimilar to one of the others back at Westchester. The only differences were that the room was more modestly furnished, much darker due to the absolute lack of windows and only half as large; just enough to fit a double bed, a side table, a working desk and a closet.

 

Slowly, Charles sat up and took in his surroundings with a smile slowly appearing on his face. ‘Barely a day back together and I’m already in your room?’

 

Erik chuckled. ‘You never change.’

 

‘Do you want me to?’

 

‘I honestly don’t know.’

 

Charles’ smile turned somber and decided a change in topic might do better for their lapse in focus. ‘How is Raven?’

 

‘Exhausted; she’s asleep in her room.’

 

‘Good, the familiar environment might help to relieve her of nightmares.’ He would not dare check, but if she projected strongly enough, he might not be able to stop himself from seeing what she was seeing and feeling everything she went through. He could only hope that she felt safe enough to rest easy, at least for tonight.

 

‘And you?’

 

‘Pardon?’ He turned his attention back from where he had been tracing odd patterns on the bed covers. ‘I doubt that I would have nightmares concerning this; I’m not too terribly affected.’

 

‘I meant overall.’

 

‘Oh, yes, well, I have an _astounding_ headache.’

 

He rolled his eyes. ‘Good, consider that your punishment for letting Stryker get close enough to tranquilize you,’ _like an animal._

 _Stryker._

 

His heart dropped.

 

‘Erik,’ he whispered urgently, ‘please tell me you didn’t-’

 

‘William Stryker is well and alive,’ he promised.

 

Charles breathed a sigh of relief. What he failed to notice was that Erik did not specify _which_ William Stryker was left behind with a crushing vengeance.

 

\--

 

She awoke with a gasp and a sudden jolt. The more she took in the sight of her bedroom, the more the images of her nightmare slowly faded into the surrounding darkness. She was sweating, the room was stifling and oddly enough, too comfortable. Raven supposed that it was very sad thought that she had unfortunately gotten used to the cold, clinical harshness of the lab she was kept in.

 

Yes, depressing.

 

Clumsily, she climbed out of her bed and stepped into the constantly lit hallway. She hoped that a glass of water would help soothe her troubled nerves but as she stepped past the open archway of the living room, she decided that maybe some company would be a better alternative.

 

‘You never sleep.’

 

‘I do not require it.’ He smiled as he took in her beautiful blue appearance.

 

She sighed as she took the empty seat on the other side of the couch. ‘Must be nice.’

 

‘The days are long, and some days are unbearable.’ He would not tell her how much her absence affected him. Something about her made him feel weak and strong, hopeful and foul, worthy and hollow; too much.

 

He had lived a long time, and he learned that many things come and go. He did not want the kind of emotional burden that he was certain that being with her would surely give. No, he could not afford it.

 

Azazel stood and turned to her, so exquisite in his eyes, but he did not smile. ‘Goodnight, Mystique.’

 

She looked away and brought her feet close to her and whispered to him, ‘goodnight.’

 

As he passed her from behind the couch, he offered her a reassuring hand on her shoulder; the only touch he could afford.

 

\--

 

He wondered if this was a dream, being in this familiar setting, but he knew it was real as soon as he laid eyes on the helmet that his friend wore atop his head. It dealt both a crushing blow to his chest and a reassurance in his mind.

 

‘Are you trying to read my next move, Charles?’ Erik asked in jest.

 

He smiled and moved his pawn in sacrifice. ‘Not at all. It won’t be quite as much fun if I did.’

 

‘Oh, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy toying with me either way.’

 

Charles gave a mock sigh. ‘You think so little of me.’

 

Erik did not move for the pawn he laid bare. Instead, he moved his bishop in line with the White Queen; a dangerous maneuver, but this was one of the man’s favorite tactics which involved ‘high risk, high reward’.

 

‘So quick to end the game, my friend?’ He inquired as he fingered a rook piece.

 

He did not answer. When he did answer, it was not to the question he asked.

 

‘Charles, I am going to make the suggestion that you don’t want to hear but needs to be said;’ he did not wait for the other to be prepared before he lunged, ‘erase everything.’

 

He choked and almost dropped the chess piece; it would’ve been difficult and awkward for him to pick it up again if he did. ‘What?’

 

‘These things change a person faster than anything else ever could.’ Erik knew what that was like; he was still living it. ‘If you want to keep your sister, then erase the events of this week from her mind.’

 

That was too much of a drastic measure, and Charles wasn’t sure if he was morally capable of tampering with Raven’s memory. He shook his head.

 

‘No, not just that.’

 

Both men snapped their heads towards the open doorway where Raven watched them with determination in her eyes.

 _This is wrong._

 

Charles felt this throat close up as she quietly stepped on the carpet and kneeled down by his wheelchair.

 

‘Raven,’

 

‘If we’re going to fight on opposite sides,’ she began with a shaky voice, ‘then you have to make me forget everything from the moment we met onwards.’

 

The rook fell and his heart dropped along with it. Erik turned to Charles and wished the man did not look so betrayed, like his whole world was falling apart all over again. ‘No, I never meant this.’ _This is wrong._

 

Raven tore her gaze away from her brother’s watery eyes. ‘This is my choice; I want this.’ _There’s no other way._ Gently, she whispered to him, ‘you are the only person I could ask this from.’

 

Erik shook his head; this was not what he had planned to happen. He only wanted to get rid of some heartache, not add more. He hoped that she might reconsider, but before he could even string his word together, she was already speaking.

 

‘Erik, if I am to be on your side, if we’re going to do this; fight against each other, then we should do this properly; we can’t afford to hesitate or be compromised,’ _like we already are._

 

He stood and bore his eyes down on her, but she rose to meet him with determination shining in her eyes; she will not be swayed.

 

‘I understand.’

 

His heart dropped again and he wondered how the man could ever possibly agree to this. ‘Charles, you cannot be serious.’

 

He gave a watery smile and turned to Raven with impossibly blue eyes. ‘Who am I to deny my only sister?’ He could not hold her gaze for long and this shamed him; he was weak. ‘If this is what she wants, I’ll do it,’ _even if it breaks me._

 

The steps were easy, deceivingly so. As he gently forced her into a calm sleep and went through her memories, removing every shred of himself and of their life together, tears quietly slipped down his face.

 

When he was done, though she was not awake, her face was stained with tears.

 

The steps were easy, deceivingly so, but nothing had ever felt so hard.

 

\--

 

‘My father may not have always been morally sound, some of you will agree with me, but he believed that with hard work and dedication, we would be able to live in a better tomorrow. He had good intentions in his heart and he _strove_ for that bright future.

 

‘He may no longer be alive, but his legacy lives in me, and I will strive, to my _dying breath_ , to succeed where he could not.’

 

He raised his hand in a toast and watched as his fellow men did the same.

 

‘To my father; William Archibald Stryker.’

 _One day, Xavier. One day, I will find you and I will make you_ pay _._


	11. Chapter 11

The game was over, but no sides had won. The game was finished, but both sides walked away with more burdens than they could bear to carry alone. Their shoulders were set in a heavy droop, but they tried their best to make do with the choices they have made. These were the consequences of their actions; their crosses to bear.

 

‘I’m sorry, Charles,’ Erik said as he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. He did not linger for long. ‘I never meant-’ _to hurt you,_ ‘-for you to go through this.’

 

For once, Charles couldn’t bring himself to speak. Not only had he lost the one person whom he considered a true friend as an ally, but he had also lost the one person he had ever considered family like no other; mind, body and soul. The Raven he knew was no more; locked away in the deepest, darkest parts of her mind. To Charles, she would be just a shadow of a memory, another cross to bear.

 

‘For what it is worth, had I been in your position, I would do the same for Raven; you did the right-’

 

‘Do not,’ he struggled for an even breath, ‘patronize me, my friend.’

 

This was another moment where Erik wished he had the ability to turn back time by weeks, months, and years, but time was a fickle thing. It was an impossible thing to wish for.

 

‘I am not your friend,’ he said softly, more to lessen his pain than for Charles, ‘friends do not turn their siblings against each other and hurt one another.’ _You should hate me._

 

Charles laughed. Perhaps he’s gone crazy. He wouldn’t be surprised.

 

‘Ah, but while I cannot vouch for the sibling rivalry, only true friends have the strength and the courage to hurt each other all for the sake of the betterment of one another,’ he spoke softly and turned to Erik with a pained smile. Charles wondered for how much longer he could cope with this self-inflicted torture.

 

Amused, despite the ache he felt in his chest, he shook his head and placed a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘Charles, you are an infuriatingly astounding person.’ _Why must you be so forgiving?_

 

He laughed again, longer and louder this time. ‘I try.’

 

‘Let me take you home.’

 

‘Alright,’ Charles felt ready to sleep the rest of his life away, just so he wouldn’t have to go through this kind of pain again.

 

As they walked down the corridors, each in a quiet but comfortable conversation, Charles came to a slow realization that something was missing.

 

‘No Azazel?’ After all, the red man was the one that helped them _in_ , so he would’ve assumed that he would help them _out_ as well.

 

‘Of course not; I have better means of transportation,’ he said with a wicked smile on his face as he led the way and opened a door into a large garage. Right in the middle of it (because it was the only vehicle there) was a Ford 300, the exact same one they used on their first recruiting mission.

 

‘I assumed you borrowed it?’ He asked with a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

 

‘No,’ he said truthfully, ‘this is entirely mine,’ and it was with a simple click of his fingers that the doors of the car unlocked and the doors swung open in invitation. ‘What do you say to a trip down memory lane?’

 

If this was a dream, then he honestly did not want to wake up.

 

‘How could I possibly refuse, my friend?’ But before they could begin, there was another matter he needed to attend to. ‘But first, would you mind if I made use of one of your facilities?’

 

‘Of course,’ he didn’t give the man any directions, simply because he had no idea which ‘facility’ Charles wanted to use. __

\--

 

‘You can’t even tell if they’re human or not when you take a look at that.’

 

Sean sat forward in interest. ‘What do you mean?’

 

Alex had no idea how they managed to go from desperate panic to idle conversation, and while he was curious about how Max’s mutation worked himself, he had more pressing matters to address first.

 

‘Well,’ he started and scratched at his rough, barely-there stubble, ‘they look pretty normal, actually, within the first month or so of dying.’

 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Normal, as in…they look like us; flesh and blood?’

 

‘Yup; they don’t even glow. How can I explain this…’ he squeezed his eyes shut and raked through his memories and his mental thesaurus on how to best describe his definition on ‘ _dead people_ ’, ‘it’s like they don’t even know they’re dead, yet, because they behave the same way we do; laugh, cry, sleep; or at least pretend to.’

 

He shuddered. ‘In that case, how _do_ you know that they’re actually ghosts?’

 

‘The older ones lose that human color; they turn a bit grey, and slightly more see-through.’ He ignored when the phone began to ring; Hank picked it up on the third go. ‘The ones wandering around here are about that color.’

 

He shuddered more dramatically. ‘Creepy.’

 

Max shrugged. ‘You get used to it.’

 

‘OK!’ Alex slammed his hands down onto the table. ‘ _Enough_ with the distractions! We need a plan!’

 

Sean raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘No way, man. We’re like the X-Men without the X. We’re not even men; we’re just guys.’

 

He scowled. ‘Fine, be that way, obviously you don’t care enough.’

 

‘Of course I care! I just know my limitations.’

 

‘No, you’re just afraid.’

 

Sean waved the issue of his cowardly ways aside. ‘OK, say that I am, regardless, you don’t have a plan, and even if you do, I bet you’re just going to blow every wall up until you find him.’

 

‘If that’s what I have to do, then fine!’

 

‘Fine!’

 

‘Hey,’ Hank reappeared back in his awfully-crowded lab, ‘I just got off the phone with Charles; he’s hoping we haven’t torn the place apart.’

 

Alex ignored the accusation of vandalism but was happy to hear from Charles, though not happy that Hank was no longer on the phone with Charles. ‘Well? Did he say who he was with?’

 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Some guy named Max Eisenhardt; _not_ Erik Lehnsherr.’

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘ _Yes_ , oh; you owe everyone an apology,’ he pointed at him in blame for the slight chaos that was caused within the mansion today, ‘and you’re cooking dinner tonight.’

 

Alex huffed, wondered how his gut instincts could’ve been so wrong even though it felt so right. Something had gone wrong, but for the moment, he had no answers.

 

That night, he cooked a simple dinner of spaghetti with lots of mince and tomato sauce, with a generous amount of fresh basil, just to throw Sean off.

 

\--

 

The explosive sound of a gunshot echoed in her ears and when she came to, she realized that it had only been a dream; a memory of burning sands, burning trees and a burning loss in her soul.

 

Mystique wondered where the memory came from.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over, oh it's over! I can finally move onto another project of mine now, huzzah!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading it, despite its' faults and what not. Hey, I tried, I never said it was my best. Any-hoooo, thank you all for reading, for everybody who left kudos and those who left comments on and off site. =D Cheers! You'll be seeing something else appear in about a week or so, so chin up! I'll pop by soon enough.


End file.
